A Railroad Christmas Carol
by SD80MACfan
Summary: Arthur is a miserly, cantankerous diesel that works the rail yards of Detroit, MI. And he hates Christmas. But will a mysterious encounter on Christmas Eve change his outlook on life?
1. Chapter 1

_Forward_

This story is designed to be part of a larger book that is not yet complete called "Who is Polly Ann?". The story is about a steam locomotive named Christine. She is a Grand Trunk Western J-3-a class, 4-6-2 Pacific #5038 that was built in 1913.

In 1960 she was unfortunately replaced by newer diesels and retired. She was later purchased by her driver, Bill Rauli, and was brought to his family farm where she stayed in storage. Mr Rauli gradually rebuilt her to the point that she was operational by the 1980's and she started to work on the railroad line that he had helped build in Michigan's thumb. Unfortunately, not everyone liked the idea of using her for regular operations.

While working on the railroad operated by Mr. Rauli's son Will, she derailed and was damaged to the point that she would need to be rebuilt. The owner of the railroad line tried to get her removed from operation for good and get the Rauli family in trouble for operating her. But Mr. Rauli hid her on another family farm and secretly worked on fixing her.

Her sudden disappearance, however, started rumors that she was being scrapped. Since steam locomotives were rare and basically antiques, this created a big stir in the rail enthusiast community. It prompted a young author by the name of Michael Grovelan to investigate the rumors. When he found out the truth, he offered to lend his help to fix her in exchange for getting to write down her life story and publish it.

Since then, Michael has been regularly returning to this secluded farm in Michigan's thumb to help work on her and learn more about Christine's life. And this specific story that he will hear is one that no one will ever forget.

* * *

_Chapter 1_

_December, 1989_

_Eastern Michigan_

It was Christmas time once again. The air was cold, the sky was overcast, and a fresh blanket of snow coated everything. For Christine, Christmas was always a fun time. Some of her favorite memories were of pulling commuter trains through Detroit and seeing all the decorations along the way. There was also the opportunity to see the children sledding, skating and building snowmen when she was working on the Polly Ann line in Michigan's thumb region.

For the Rauli family, Christmas came with its own traditions. For them, it was to host a huge company Christmas party. Everyone from the railroad and their families were invited to it and it was always filled with fun activities, caroling and plenty of food.

This year it was decided to hold the party at the farm where Christine was being rebuilt. In preparation for this, all of the shop tools and machinery had been moved out of the way to the back of the workshop and tables, chairs and decorations had been set up in their place. One row of tables sat along one wall with all types of food laid out on it. Along the other wall stood a tall fir tree decorated with red, silver and white ribbons and ornaments and white lights. A lime green Lionel train ran around the base of the tree, and next to the tree was a radio playing Christmas songs that echoed throughout the shop, giving it a very festive atmosphere.

As 2:00 PM rolled around, the first guests started to arrive. Amongst the first few was Michael. He headed over to Christine and greeted her warmly. "Hello Christine. Merry Christmas," he said as he set up his recorder.

"Merry Christmas to you too," she replied. "It's nice to see you again."

"Likewise," Michael replied. "I'm looking forward to what you have to share with us today. Also, I brought you a little something."

"A gift for me?" she said somewhat surprised.

"Yep." Michael reached into his bag and produced a magazine. He opened it up to a specific page and showed it to her. The pages contained a full, two-page spread of her pulling a freight train on the Polly Ann line. Above the photo was the title "One Engine's Story".

Christine was taken aback and barely knew what to say. "I-Is that… me?" she asked.

Michael smiled. "Hot off the press. It's the first part of your story, published in Trains Magazine for everyone to see. Hope you like it."

Christine's eyes beamed with happiness. "I love it. Thank you so much."

"My pleasure."

As they talked, another gentleman walked up to them. "Hello Chrissy. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas to you too Mr. Jacobson," Christine replied. "It's nice to see you again."

"Same here. Nancy told me to send you her regards and ask when you were going to come back down there to run with her again."

Christine smiled. "Hopefully some time after I'm put back together the rest of the way," she said with a chuckle.

Mr. Jacobson chuckled too. "Well, I'm off to talk with Bill. I look forward to hearing your story today."

"Thank you, and enjoy the party," she replied before he walked off.

Michael watched him as he walked away, slightly stunned. "Was that who I thought it was?" he asked.

"The one and only Jerry Jacobson if that's who you thought it was," Christine replied.

"Wow!" he replied. "I didn't think he'd be here."

"Well, he is a close friend of Mr. Rauli, and he's donated plenty of money and parts to go towards my rebuild so of course he'd be here."

Michael could only stare in surprise. "Who was that Nancy person he was talking about?"

"Oh, she's his personal steam locomotive, former Canadian National #1551. Mr. Rauli took me down to Ohio two year ago and I ran with her on his Ohio Central railroad. The two of us are rather close now."

"Oh yes. I've heard about her," Michael said, still in amazement as he watched Mr. Jacobson and Mr. Rauli share a warm handshake.

Over the next hour the party grew as more guests arrived, got food and conversed amongst each other, laughing and enjoying the festive atmosphere. The children that were in attendance played around in Christine's cab with Will keeping an eye on them. After a while, Mr. Rauli climbed up onto Christine's pilot and rang her bell to get everyone's attention. Michael, upon seeing him climb up, quickly moved over and started his recorder.

"Welcome ladies and gentlemen to the annual Jackson, Pontiac & Northern Christmas Party," he began. "I'd like to thank each and every one of you for coming out here. It's a privilege and an honor to have everyone here. Feel free to grab seconds as there's plenty of food; or thirds if you happen to be Sam." Everyone chuckled, including the large, young man he had pointed out, who comedically raised a turkey leg over his head.

"Now as most of you have heard, this party is going to be a little different as we're going to hear Christine tell a Christmas story from her past. Now this is a story that, according to her, I haven't even heard. So I hope you're all ready for it." He climbed down and turned the attention over to Christine.

"Thank you Mr. Rauli," she said. "Now before I begin, I need to ask if any of you have ever heard of the Black Marias?" One or two of the guests nodded in affirmation while most shook their heads 'No'.

"Well, for those that don't know, the Black Marias were a trio of diesel locomotives named Maria, Mary and Martha. Maria and Mary were DL-202 models, Martha was a DL-203 model and all three were built by the American Locomotive Company, or Alco for short, in 1945. They went on tour as Alco demonstrator units numbers 1500A-1500C and operated throughout New England and between New York and Chicago. Unfortunately, they proved to be unreliable as they were equipped with outdated diesel engines that were just being replaced with a newer model. As a result, the three engines were retired and put into storage."

"The Black Marias were eventually scrapped in September of 1947. Their sale to the scrap yard was signed by Robert B. McColl, the president of Alco himself, as well as the owner of the scrap yard. They were then cut up and had their parts recycled or sent to steel works to be melted down and formed into new parts that would go into new automobiles, ovens, railroad rails or almost anything else that used steel in its construction. By all physical respects, they were as dead as a railroad spike. You must fully understand this, or nothing miraculous will come of this story."

"Now this story in particular takes place 35 years ago on Christmas Eve, 1954 and is about an engine by the name of Arthur. He was an Electro-Motive Corporation SC type diesel locomotive built in 1938. He was the first diesel locomotive to be purchased by the Grand Trunk Western and was given the number 7800. He eventually lost the last two zeros though and just became #78. Of course, you could still tell he had been #7800. His paint was somewhat worn and his old, ornate paint scheme, along with his original number, showed through the plain and faded coat of black paint he wore."

"But Arthur never worried about it. Then again, he never worried about anything unless it affected his work even in the slightest. He was a hard-pressed, closed-minded, antisocial engine. No one regularly talked to him. No engines that passed him ever whistled "Hello Arthur, it's good to see you again." Barely any railfans ever came to take his picture. No children ever ran to the tracks to see him go by. Even the stray cats and dogs that wandered the yards kept their distance from him."

"But, as I said, Arthur never cared for it. In fact he appreciated it. The less he had to interact with others, the less of a chance he had for his work to be delayed, which was the very last thing he wanted. And no one ever wanted to see what he was like when he was late with his duties."

"This particular Christmas eve, I happened to be working with him in Milwaukee Junction. It was a cold and rather foggy evening; the fog was so thick that you could cut it with a knife. Arthur was switching cars as was his job on an almost regular basis. But he didn't pay any attention to the weather. He had the entire layout of the yard memorized by heart and could probably do his work even if he had no eyes at all."

"As with most diesels, he didn't necessarily like steam locomotives, but he had an unusual habit of getting upset about the smallest things, including refueling for both steamers and diesels."

* * *

_December 24, 1954_

_Milwaukee Junction, Detroit, MI_

Christine was humming Christmas tunes cheerfully as she switched out a few passenger cars from one of the evening commuter runs. Despite the cold she stayed happy simply because of what day it was. Once she was done, she switched over to the fueling rack to top off with coal and water. Arthur noticed when she stopped at the coaling tower and spoke up. "What do you think you're doing?" he barked at her.

"I'm getting coal," she replied. "I'm almost out after all the switching and runs I've been doing today."

"I know for a fact that you still have some," he barked back. "If you didn't have any at all, I would have heard it hit the bottom of your tender. Quit wasting time and get back to work."

Christine's driver, Mr. Wix, just scoffed at him. "She's my engine and I'll decide when she gets coal and water, thank you very much."

Arthur's driver, Ethan Delaney, also chimed in. "Arthur, you know better than to order them around. And you also know it's better to not let yourself run empty because you have 'too much work'." Arthur had a tendency to let his own tank run dry because he insisted on doing his work first and that refueling was a waste of time, despite the fact that he relied on it to do his work.

"Oh balderdash," was all Arthur said in reply.

As he continued back to his work, a horn from the north sounded and another diesel locomotive rolled towards them, its headlight cutting a path through the dense fog. "Merry Christmas Uncle Arthur," came a cheerful voice. The voice in question came from another GTW diesel locomotive by the name of Sidney. He was an Electro-Motive Diesel SW9 #7014 and was a rather cheerful locomotive as far as diesels went.

"Balderdash," Arthur said again.

"Oh come on Uncle Arthur, don't you have anything happy to say? It is Christmas Eve after all."

"I don't care for Christmas. It's of no use to me. It is a human holiday after all. We're just engines built to do work that humans can't on their own. We weren't built to be celebrating anything of theirs, and doing so takes up time that we could be using to get work done. If I had a choice, every engine that went about whistling 'Merry Christmas' should be boiled in their own oil; with their pistons blown through their cylinder heads."

Sidney was taken aback by his statement. "Uncle!"

"Nephew," Arthur replied rhetorically. "That's another thing I'll never understand. Why engines insist on calling each other family."

The real reason Sidney referred to Arthur as his uncle was because he was one of the original four diesel models built by EMC. In addition to the SC model there were the SW, NC and NW models. The first letter represented the engine type and horsepower rating of the locomotive; S for an 8-cylinder, 600 HP engine and N for a 12-cylinder, 900 HP engine. The second letter stood for the type of steel frame the locomotive had; C for cast and W for welded. After EMC became EMD, a variety of SW and NW models were produced, including Sidney's model, SW9. Since the SC and SW classes were only different in their frames, most SW's referred to them as uncles or aunts. Now Arthur knew this, of course. But he insisted that it was just as useless as being bothered while he was working.

"If we aren't meant to celebrate Christmas," Sidley replied, "then why do our crews celebrate it with us? If we weren't meant to celebrate it with them, they wouldn't tell us about it, or share the happiness that it brings with us.

"Yes it may be true that we're engines, but we are still alive. We have feelings, we have emotions, we have a consciousness and we have a soul. That's the one thing we share with humans and the one thing that no one can take away from us. I view Christmas as a happy time. A time when we can put aside our differences, human and engine alike, take a break from the daily monotony of life, and just relax and be ourselves. And as long as our crews continue to share it with us, I'll continue to celebrate it with them as long as I'm alive."

A chorus of whistle blasts arose from Christine who had been listening in on the whole conversation. "Well said Sidney!" she tooted cheerfully.

Arthur gave her an evil stare and she immediately went silent. "You're a rather open-minded engine, Sidney," he remarked. "I'm surprised you aren't the one running this railroad with opinions like that."

"Oh come on," Sidney said, brushing away Arthur's statement. "I simply came here to invite you to the roundhouse tomorrow for our Christmas Party. Engines from the Wabash, New York Central, Shore Line, and Detroit Terminal are going to be there. You should join us; have some fun for once instead of locking yourself away in your shed and sulking for the entire day."

"Let me guess, that Baldwin girlfriend of yours is going to be there, isn't she?"

"Of course," Sidney replied, before realizing why he asked such a question. "Oh would you just stop it with the excuses? You never used Daisy as an excuse before. Why now?"

Arthur didn't reply. He simply moved to the next siding to collect and move more cars. "Good day," was all he said.

"Come on Uncle Arthur. All I want from you is to be friends instead of looking at each other as rivals. Is that too much to ask?"

"I said good day!" Arthur replied even more sternly than before.

Sidney, admitting defeat, sighed and switched over towards Christine. "I wish I could get through to him," he said glumly. "But time after time he refuses to do anything."

"Don't worry about it," she replied. "I'm used to it by now. We just have to let fate take its course and hope he sees the light before it's too late."

"Yes, I pray to the Great Father every day for his sake. Change of subject; how is Riley doing?"

"He's doing fine. Despite everything he's remained strong and in good spirits."

"Good. I will pray to the Great Father for his health as well. Well, I'm off. I wish you and everyone in Pontiac a very Merry Christmas."

"Thank you, and the same to you and everyone else."

Sidney rolled away, but not before leaving with a final farewell to Arthur. "Have a very Merry Christmas, Uncle Arthur! And a Happy New Year!" In response, Arthur simply blew his horn loudly and angrily.

As Sidney rolled away, two men approached Arthur. One was tall and thin and the other was shorter and portly. They both had cameras and notebooks and wore black suits with white collars, making them look a bit like reverends. Based on their appearance, Arthur knew exactly what they were. _Railfans,_ he thought condescendingly.

"Excuse me," the taller one said with a British accent. "Do you happen to be an EMD SW type locomotive?"

"No, I happen to be an EMC SC type," Arthur replied with an annoyed tone.

"Oh, my apologies," he said. They quickly snapped his picture and wrote some notes down on a notepad.

Before Arthur had a chance to protest, the shorter one turned his attention to his driver. "We are traveling America finding various scenes on the railroad to photograph for research, especially steam locomotives."

_Of course you are,_ Arthur thought.

"Would you happen to know any that we could photograph and where?"

Before Ethan had a chance to answer, Arthur chirped in. "Have you checked the backshops?"

"Yes, we have," the shorter one replied.

"And aren't there deadlines in the yards?"

"Yes, there are," the taller one said. "Though I wish there weren't."

"The scrap yards and smelters are all working to their full potential?"

Hesitating, as he realized what Arthur was getting at, the shorter one replied, "Y-yes, they are."

"Good. For a second I thought something had happened, since that's where you usually find steam locomotives these days."

"But, those places don't show the magnificence of them operating out on the mainline. And I'm sure that many steam locomotives would rather be in a crash that resulted in them being scrapped than to be retired and rust away in a deadline, waiting to be scrapped."

"Well if they're going to crash then they'd better do it soon, and reduce their unnecessary existence!"

Ethan had enough. "Arthur!" he said sternly. "That kind of talk is completely uncalled for. These men have obviously come a long way to document the railroads and the last thing they need is an engine being disrespectful to them."

"Oh balderdash," Arthur replied.

"And don't you be giving me any lip either, or I'll just park you here for the rest of the night."

That statement convinced Arthur to drop the matter. The last thing he wanted to have done was to be parked in the yard where anyone and everyone could see him. He would much rather be in his own, confined shed.

"I apologize for my engine's behavior gentlemen," he said, making sure Arthur heard him. "If you want, there's an engine right over there that would be more than happy to show you around," he said as he pointed in Christine's direction.

"Thank you sir," the taller gentlemen said, "We appreciate the courtesy. And a Merry Christmas to you."

"And the same to you," Ethan replied.

As the two men walked off, Arthur simply scowled. He looked over at Christine who was just finishing her refueling. "I take it you won't be here tomorrow, with this 'Christmas' and all," he said.

"No, I won't be. There aren't even any scheduled commuter trains tomorrow."

"Hmm," Arthur said slightly annoyed. "Just remember to be here early the day after. I'm sure your passengers wouldn't appreciate to be late the day after Christmas."

"Don't worry," Christine said. "I'll be here no problem." And with the two photographers aboard, she chuffed away.

The rest of the evening went by uneventfully and before long it was night. Arthur finished his duties for the day and headed back to his shed. It sat at the end of the Dequindre Cut, a below-grade rail line that ran under the suburban neighborhoods of northeast metro Detroit and into Brush Street Station in the heart of downtown and on the riverfront. Closer to the river were a few grade crossings and industries that were served by the railroad.

As Arthur approached the first crossing, he found Mr. Persil's delivery truck stuck on the tracks. _Here we go again,_ Arthur thought as he came to a stop. Mr. Persil had a habit of getting his truck stuck on the crossing, especially during the winter.

Ethan went to help move the truck as Arthur sat and waited. The grade crossing bells were going off in their regular rhythm and the lights flashed, reflecting off the logo on the side of the truck. Arthur had seen this logo many times before, but for some reason, the logo looked different to him.

The logo looked almost like an engine. And with each flash of the crossbucks, the figure became more and more apparent. In fact, as Arthur stared at it, he realized that he recognized the engine.

"Maria?" Arthur unconsciously said.

Suddenly, the truck moved, and the logo was the same as it was before. Arthur shook his head, trying to figure out what he'd just seen. It couldn't have been Maria. In fact, he hadn't thought of the Black Marias in years, since they came to Chicago in 1946. And even then, he had heard that the three sisters had been scrapped in 1947.

Suddenly, Arthur realized he was moving. When had he started moving? He must've been thinking about this more than he realized. After a few more moments, Arthur backed into his shed and Ethan shut him down for the night.

"I have to say," he said as he climbed out of Arthur's cab, "I'm surprised at how quiet you've been this trip home. Usually you're complaining about everything under the sun and then some."

"Must be the cold and fog," Arthur said dismissively, still trying to figure out what he'd seen earlier.

"Well, have a good night. I'll be here around noon tomorrow. Even with it being Christmas, there are still trains to take care of. But work should be light for the same reason so we'll probably be done in time for Christmas dinner."

"Sure," Arthur replied in a subdued, apathetic tone, making Ethan wonder what was wrong. Usually the mention of Christmas dinner resulted in an angry 'balderdash' from Arthur. He didn't press the matter though and went to shut off the shed lamp. But as he did Arthur stopped him. "Do you think you could leave the light on tonight?" he asked.

Ethan was a bit surprised. "The last time I forgot to shut the light off, you didn't let me forget about it for a month. You sure you want it on?"

"Y-yeah. Just felt like trying something different. Maybe the light will help make it feel warmer tonight," Arthur lied.

_What's going on with him?_ Ethan thought. He was rather puzzled by his engine's request, but agreed to it anyways. He locked the shed door and started on his way. He stopped for a second, wondering if he should ask Arthur what had him behaving so strangely this evening. He thought better of it though. He had no desire to let his engine's poor temperament spoil his Christmas Eve. And he headed off to his apartment for the night.

Arthur, meanwhile, worried in his shed. For whatever reason, he couldn't get the image of Maria out of his head. He contemplated what he saw for well over an hour. "It's a load of balderdash," he finally said. "It has to be." Arthur happened to look out one of the small windows of the shed and observed the banjo crossing signal that guarded the grade crossing just in front of his shed. Arthur had memorized the schedules and knew every train that traveled the Dequindre Cut and knew there were no trains that would pass by his shed during the night.

He was, therefore, rather surprised when he noticed the banjo signal start to wiggle back and forth ever so slightly. At first Arthur thought it was just a gust of wind, but then its motion enhanced and the red lamp started to come on. It flickered dimly at first, but then it got brighter and brighter as it flashed on and off for a bit before staying on all together. The bells of the crossing started to go off as well. Gently at first, but they gradually picked up speed until the clanging of the hammers against the bell became a deafening noise as the speed of the banjo picked up until it was almost a blur.

Suddenly, the signal went silent. The light shut off and the banjo froze in place. At the same time, the lamp in the shed went out. Before Arthur had a second to comprehend what just happened, he heard a low rumble, followed by some distant, metallic screeching. The noise got louder and louder and a bright light started to shine through the cracks in the wood doors of his shed.

Suddenly, the shed doors burst open and Arthur was blinded by the light, forcing him to close his eyes. He suddenly recognized the noises that were assaulting his ears. It was the sound of wheel flanges scraping against the edge of rails, and the sound of brake shoes screeching against metal wheels. The smell of brake shoe dust, diesel exhaust and a smoky smell he couldn't define assaulted his nose. "This is a load of balderdash! It's just a dream! It has to be!" he shouted.

The lights suddenly dimmed down and the noise subsided, the screeching replaced by the soft chugging of diesel engines. Arthur opened his eyes and before him stood three diesel locomotives. The ones on either side of him were both identifiable as cab units. The middle one was also a cab unit, but it had no cab. All three were of the same model, an Alco model that Arthur hadn't seen in 7 years. The engine on his left bore the number 1500A, the one in the middle 1500B and the one on his right 1500C. All three had feminine faces. Faces that looked upon him with both anger and pity. Faces that Arthur almost immediately recognized. Arthur also realized, rather quickly, that these were in fact ghost engines as all three were translucent with a blueish hue, and just their sight alone sent a chill through his entire frame.

"W-what do you want from me?" Arthur asked shakily.

"Much" all three said in unison. Arthur recognized the voices immediately, but the sound of them sent an even deeper chill through him.

"W-who are you?"

"Do not ask us who we are, for we are dead. Ask us who we were."

"I'm sorry. Forgive my ignorance," Arthur quickly said. "W-who were you?"

"In life, I was Maria," the engine on his left said.

"I was Mary," the engine on his right said.

"And I was Martha," the engine in the middle said.

"We were the Black Maria Sisters," they said in unison.

Arthur knew this to be true. They looked and sounded just like them. But he was hesitant. Whether it was out of fear or strong will no one could be certain, but it showed on his face.

"You do not believe us," Maria observed.

"No," Arthur replied after a few seconds.

"What must we do to prove we exist?" Mary queried.

"I have no idea," Arthur said.

"Do you doubt your own senses?" Martha asked. "Do you doubt your eyes, ears and nose and what they are telling you right now?"

"Of course I do," Arthur said. "Any disorder in my systems could mess them up. For all I know, you could be a leaking vacuum tube, a clogged valve, a drop of water in my fuel." He paused, and then added, "There's more to a little rust in my oil than there is to you."

He was rather impressed with himself in his ability to stay calm and rational through this whole ordeal. He even thought of himself as rather clever regarding his last statement. But he immediately regretted it when all three engines wailed loudly, blasted their air horns and rang their bells; the sound being even more ghastly than before they appeared.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Have mercy on me!" Arthur shouted.

"YOUR ATTEMPTS AT MOCKERY AND LEVITY ARE NOT APPRECIATED; NOW DO YOU BELIEVE IN US OR NOT?!" all three engines shouted at him.

"I do! I do!" Arthur said, trying his best to sound convincing. After he sensed they had calmed down he asked, "Sisters, why do you come before me? Why do you even exist right now?"

"We are forced to wander the rails of the world," Maria said.

"We are forced to see the misfortune that others go through," Mary said.

"We are forced to witness it all, but we can do nothing to spare them," Martha said.

"And," Maria said, "We are forced to haul these trains as we do." Arthur looked behind them. Each one was coupled to a long slag train that disappeared into the darkness to the point that Arthur couldn't see where they ended. Each car was equipped with heavy wheels and brakes. This, Arthur surmised, must have been where the screeching and smoky smell was coming from. "Trains that we assembled car by car," Maria said.

"Foot by foot," Mary said.

"Mile by mile during our misguided lives," Martha finished.

"Isn't there anything I can do to ease your suffering sisters?" he asked with genuine concern.

"It is too late for us, Arthur." Maria sobbed.

"Which is why we come with a warning for you," Mary said sternly.

"You carry a train like this yourself," Martha said. "And yours was as long as ours seven years ago. You have been continuing to assemble it ever since."

"Please, Sisters," Arthur said, "I can't even imagine something like that. Can't you encourage me?"

"We cannot," the three said.

"We have little time," Maria said.

"We must continue to move our trains," Mary said. "We can never stop, never rest."

"We must wander the rails for eternity, paying our penance," Martha said.

"Well, at least you got to see more of the world-" Before Arthur could continue the three sisters wailed loudly with their horns and bells blaring again. Arthur shut is eyes from the deafening noise, and in fright of the three.

"We were blind!" Maria wailed. "Blinded by our own ignorance!"

"Blinded by our own minds and desires," Mary screamed. "We therefore, could not see what we had become."

"Oh, the pain. Oh the agony we must endure," Martha sobbed loudly.

"But, you three were always strong, steadfast engines," Arthur said. "You taught me and others the truth of the railroad industry."

"Industry!" the three shouted, shaking Arthur to his crankshaft.

"Compassion was our industry," Maria said.

"Forgiveness was our industry," Mary said.

"Friendship was our industry," Martha said.

"Love-"

"Peace-"

"Kindness-"

"Mercy-"

"Patience-"

"Gentleness-"

"-All were our industry," the three finished.

"Listen well to our warning Arthur, for we shall only speak it once," Maria said.

"You have a chance to escape the fate that awaits you," Mary said.

"A hope for a better future than ours after death," Martha said.

"Thank you, Sisters," Arthur said. "You're as kind to me now as you were in life. What must I do?"

"You will be visited tonight by three spirits," Maria said.

"That's my hope?"

"It is," Mary said.

"Then I think I'll pass. The visit from the three of you is enough visiting by spirits for one night, let alone a lifetime."

Again the ghastly wail of air horns and ringing bells echoed throughout the stall, scaring Arthur out of his wits once more.

"You cannot hope to escape your fate without them," Martha said.

At that, the sisters started to rev their engines. Their wheels slipped with a ghastly screeching as they attempted to reverse the heavy slag trains they carried. "Expect the first spirit when then the clock strikes one," Maria called out.

"Why does it have to be individually?" Arthur called back. "Can't they just come at once as you have?"

"Expect the second spirit when the clock strikes two," Mary called out as they rolled away.

"The third spirit, Mortilus, will appear in his own due time after the second has departed," Martha called out.

"Do not expect to see us again, Arthur." the three said. "Remember this time, and let it be your warning for life."

The sound of screeching wheel flanges and brakes filled the air again and Arthur saw other trains following them. He saw engines of steam, diesel and electric power from all eras all the way back to the earliest steam locomotives ever built. All of them were hauling long and heavy slag trains and wailing in agony as they passed.

Arthur couldn't bear to watch anymore and shut his eyes. As he did the noise dissipated and everything went back to the silence that had existed before this whole event. Cautiously, Arthur opened his eyes. The shed doors were shut and the light was back on. Arthur didn't know what to think. But he couldn't think as exhaustion quickly replaced the adrenaline that had been coursing through him due to the events he'd just experienced. And he drifted off into a fitful sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter 2_

Arthur rustled and gradually awoke from his slumber. It was still dark outside, the light in his shed was still on and the door was still shut. As he made these connections, he heard the clock tower of the Old City Hall at Campus Martius strike the hour.

Arthur listened to the Westminster Chimes. First a quarter past, then half past, then a quarter to, then the top of the hour. The chimes themselves were slow; so slow that he thought they were being affected by the cold. And after the top of the hour, it felt like forever before he finally heard the chime marking one o'clock.

Before the bell even finished ringing, Arthur was instantly blinded by a bright light, the likes of which were even brighter than the lights of the Black Maria Sisters. As Arthur tried to discern what was before him, the light dimmed down, revealing a small steam engine standing in the now open entrance to his shed. It was a tank engine, but it was unlike any tank engine Arthur had ever seen before.

It had a 2-4-2 wheel arrangement, a small boiler, and a fairly large cab. It had short water tanks and a huge dome that made the engine look longer than it actually was. Its color was also unusual. It was painted a shiny Russian Iron with gold trim and a silver smoke box. Its buffers, dome and chimney cap were all gold, and its wheels were black with gold trim and what looked like brass tires.

Its face, however, was the most concerning to Arthur. It was a childish face, yet with definite mature and feminine features. And the locomotive, despite not having any visible headlight, seemed to radiate with light. It kept Arthur in a stunned state before he came to his senses.

"A-are you the spirit I was told about by the Three Sisters?" he asked in a timid tone.

"I am," the engine said.

"W-who are you?"

"I am the Spirit of Christmas Past."

"Past as in all-of-time past?"

"No," the spirit chuckled. "Your past."

"Why have you come to me of all engines?"

"Your welfare."

"Well, thank you for your consideration," Arthur said. "However, I think a good nights rest will take care of me just fine in that respect."

"Sleep will not save you from the fate that befell the Black Marias," the spirit said. "Come with me."

The spirit began to reverse out of the shed and Arthur was compelled to follow, but something prohibited him.

"Spirit," he called out. The spirit stopped and looked at him with a friendly expression that made him uncomfortable. "Um, I'm just a normal engine. I can't move on my own, not without an engineer at least."

The spirit chuffed up to him ever so gently and lightly pressed its buffers up against his pilot. The instant Arthur felt the point of contact his engine whirred to life on its own. "With just the touch of my buffers, may you have the ability to move of your own free will."

As the spirit backed away, Arthur, still unsure as to what had just happened, attempted to move. To his amazement, he found he could move on his own as he started to roll forward and out of his shed. Arthur was so surprised by the fact that he was moving on his own that he hadn't even noticed that the spirit had turned around and was now moving away from him. Arthur, not wanting to miss out on the opportunity that every engine had longed for, quickly followed, afraid that if he fell behind he would somehow loose this new ability.

As he followed the spirit up the line, he decided to try one more thing and blew his horn. The spirit must have sensed his enjoyment because it called back to him. "Do you enjoy this?"

"Enjoy it? What engine hasn't dreamed of the ability to move on their own without the requirement of a crew?"

The spirit chuckled and let loose a blast from its high-pitch whistle as well. As they picked up speed, Arthur noticed they were headed into a stub siding.

"Spirit, isn't that a bumping post up ahead?"

The spirit just chuckled. "Everything is not what it seems. Trust in me." And with that the spirit began to pick up speed. Arthur, not wanting to be left behind, sped up, but not at the same rate. He was still nervous of the bumping post they were rapidly approaching. Arthur watched with disbelief as the spirit ran up to the bumper, ran right through it and disappeared in a flash of rainbow colors.

Arthur, still unsure of what was happening, shut his eyes thinking that he might crash. He heard the sound of a steam whistle and a grade crossing bell and then was assaulted with the brightness of daylight. Gradually, he opened his eyes and couldn't believe what he saw. He quickly applied his brakes and pulled up alongside the spirit, who was standing at the top of a hill.

Arthur looked down into what looked like a quarry of some sorts. But it was one that Arthur hadn't seen in years. "Oh my. This is the sand pits in Grand Haven. It's where I worked and lived for my first few years on the GTW."

Yes, this was them indeed. Arthur followed the tracks down into the pits, the memories of the layout of the tracks coming back to him as if he'd never left. He was immediately reminded of the smells and sights of the pits. As he passed the foreman's office, he spotted the dump trucks and bulldozers all gathered together in the yard and singing Christmas carols. "It's Freddie! And Bonnie and Will and Maggie! Hey, guys!" But despite how loud he called, they didn't even acknowledge that he was there.

"These are but images of the past; mere shadows. They have no consciousness or awareness of us."

Arthur was a bit saddened by this, but he continued to take in the sights. And as he did, he spotted a small diesel switcher sitting at the end of the tracks, alone and cold. "Oh my word," Arthur exclaimed. It was an engine exactly like him. An SC type diesel, but with a gray, blue and yellow paint scheme. And it had the number 7800 painted on its side. It sat on the siding, covered in snow and shivering in the cold.

"An engine," the spirit said, "Given up by the railroad he was built for. Left alone with no one to share the time of day with it."

"Yes," Arthur said. "I know. The poor engine. It was a terrible situation I had been in. I was less than a month old when I accidentally killed my own driver who had jumped down to realign a switch. I just started rolling, couldn't stop and he couldn't get out of the way in time."

"The manager of the railroad was furious. He said he had no place on his railroad for engines who would move on their own and kill their crew. And as punishment he sent me here." At the reminder of what had happened, Arthur felt a tear well up in his eyes. "But there's nothing that can be done about that now. It's all in the past."

"Let us view another Christmas then," the spirit said.

Arthur watched as the pit gradually grew bigger and bigger before his eyes. And his younger self grew dirtier and dirtier. Dirt and dust gradually coated his face and covered up his beautiful paint scheme, which itself started to chip away at places.

Arthur watched as the years he spent there passed by. Suddenly, he heard a horn from behind them and a female voice called out his name. He looked in the direction of the noise and his jaw nearly dropped to the tracks.

Another engine, also an SC but female with the number 7801, approached the younger version of Arthur. Unlike Arthur, she wore a simple coat of black paint with gold lettering.

"Anne?" the young Arthur said upon seeing the engine. "Is that really you?"

"Yes! Yes it is brother," she replied.

"What are you doing here?" he asked

"I've come to take you home," she said.

"Home?" he asked, not quite believing what he'd heard.

"Yes! We have a new manager, and I asked him the other day if you could come back to Detroit to spend Christmas with us. And he did! Not only that, but he also agreed that you'll be washed, repainted and then sent to work in Durand. And that you'll never come back here again."

"Oh, my dear sister. This is the best Christmas present I could ask for. Thank you."

Anne coupled up to the young Arthur and pulled him out of the quarry. As they left the spirit spoke to Arthur. "She may have been a weak engine, but she had a strong heart."

"Yes," Arthur said as a tear welled up in his eye. "Even the Great Father knew that beyond a shadow of a doubt."

"It is a pity she was scrapped so young, due to that wreck on the Canadian National," the spirit said. "But she did inspire the new diesels on the GTW, including one particular engine who often refers to you as 'Uncle'."

"Yes. That she did," Arthur replied, the mention of Sidney notwithstanding.

"Come, we have much more to see."

Once again, they traveled through a bumping post and arrived in a rail yard. Beyond the yard was a huge collection of highrise buildings and skyscrapers. And it was another location that Arthur hadn't seen in a long time.

"Do you remember this place?" the spirit asked.

"Remember it?" Arthur asked with a loud chuckle. "It's Elsdon Yard in Chicago. This is where I worked after World War II."

The two rolled through the yard from the south, traveling past the diamond for the Belt Railway of Chicago's line that shared Elsdon Yard as well as connected with the south side of the Santa Fe Railway's Corwith Yard. Everything came back to Arthur; the sights, smells and sounds.

As they rolled up to the roundhouse, a rather portly man with a bushy beard walked out of the shop offices. Arthur recognized him immediately and his eyes lit up. "It's Mr. Fensworth! The Yardmaster!"

Mr. Fensworth inhaled deeply and then exhaled loudly with a big smile on his face. "Ho there! Arthur! Richard!" he shouted. "Stop meddling with those cars and help clean up. It's time to prepare for tomorrow's Christmas party."

"Right away Boss," an 0-8-0 steamer lettered for the Indiana Harbor Belt said. "Come on Arthur. Quit messing around and let's go."

Once again, Arthur's eyes lit up at the sight of the engine. "I-It's Richard. Old Richard, alive and well again!"

"I've gotta set the brakes on these cars and I'll be there in a minute," the younger Arthur said. He was now wearing a coat of all black paint with gold lettering, exactly like his sister, but still had the number 7800.

As the two worked on cleaning up they chuckled and laughed as they bumped cars to and fro. "You know," Arthur remembered, "Richard was rather fond of me and called me his friend on more than one occasion. I wish I could talk to him again."

The scene before them changed and suddenly it was Christmas day. Locomotives of all shapes and sizes from the GTW, IHB, BRC and Santa Fe all filed into the roundhouse along with a few locomotives from other railroads. Workers all filed into the offices where they received plates of food and cups of steaming cider. Some of them brought their children along to show them the trains and let them climb in the cabs of their locomotives.

The engines all laughed and sang Christmas carols together. The mood was so joyous that Arthur happened to nod his head to the rhythm of one song. The spirit glanced at him with a smile. "I-I had an itch on my forehead I was trying to get," he said dismissively as he stopped nodding.

"Ah, but this is a silly thing," the spirit said, "For someone like Fensworth to make both human and engine happy; on Christmas Day of all times."

The words he had said to Sidney came back to Arthur, but also his memories of working under Mr. Fensworth as he watched the portly man laughing over a pint of cider with some other crewmembers. "You don't understand, Spirit. Mr. Fensworth had the ability to make our work easy or hard. He had the power to make us enjoy doing the same tasks day after day or wish we had never been built. And yet he managed to do the former in more ways than I can count. And he had kindness, compassion and wisdom that I have not seen or heard matched by any other train master, yard master or controller."

Suddenly, Mr. Fensworth pulled out a megaphone and shouted. "All right everyone. Let's head over to Corwith Yard for our annual game of Kick Track."

All the engines cheered and tooted happily as they started to file out of the roundhouse and headed to the yard. "Of course," Arthur said. "The annual Kick Track tournament. Come on, let's go," he said enthusiastically to the spirit as he head to Corwith Yard. The spirit smiled and followed Arthur.

Kick Track was a game that engines and railroad crews played on a regular basis that was similar to games like Curling or Shuffleboard. In fact, a few railroads had created teams for this sport that played against other railroads. The game was played on six tracks that were 1,000 feet long and had a set of retarders in the middle. Each team would have six engines, one for each track, and each track would have a 40' boxcar that would serve as the playing piece.

The goal of the game was to get the boxcar's door to stop inside a scoring zone at the opposite end of the track without stopping short, rolling too far, or worse, hitting the opposing team member. Where in the scoring zone the door of the boxcar stopped determined how many points the player got; 10, 5, 3 or 1. Each round would consist of five shots from each locomotive and there were three rounds per game. After the third round, the highest and lowest individual scores would be subtracted, and the team with the highest number of remaining points would win the game.

This particular tournament would be played with the GTW and IHB on one team and the Santa Fe and BRC on the opposing team. In addition, there was a guest player on each team from another railroad. The GTW team had an engine from the Gulf, Mobile & Ohio; a young and rather unusual, one-of-a-kind 4S model built by Ingalls Shipbuilding by the name of Laura. The Santa Fe team also had a visiting diesel, but the young Arthur missed the name, type and railroad of the engine.

The young Arthur was a natural at playing Kick Track and was a Chicago favorite in the sport. If the GTW had its own Kick Track team he most likely would have been their star player. The two teams were both evenly matched during the game and by the end of the second round both teams were tied. During the previous two rounds, the young Arthur had learned that the diesel was a female Alco HH660 model from the Milwaukee Road. And as it turned out, she was a natural at playing the sport herself.

Arthur himself, however, couldn't take his eyes off of her. While he had been completely enthralled in the game earlier, he was suddenly focusing on her, as if there was nothing else in the world that mattered. The spirit simply looked at Arthur with a set smile.

In the third round, the young Arthur found himself paired up with the engine. She proved to be a match even for him as they started the third round. Arthur was given the first shot and set himself up. He had done this countless times before. He had 250 feet of track to get the boxcar up to the speed he wanted with the final 85 feet to release the car. From there, the boxcar would pass through the retarders, which would slow the boxcar down on his command.

He took his position and, on the sound of the whistle, began to push the boxcar forward. He was careful to not speed the boxcar up too much and let it get away from him too soon, otherwise he would get a penalty. Concentrating on his speed and positioning, he did a mental calculation and immediately called out "Breaks!" to which his engineer quickly applied his independent breaks and brought him to a quick stop, mere inches from the stop line.

The young Arthur counted down the seconds as they passed, watching the boxcar roll through "No Engine's Land" towards the retarders. As soon as the boxcar hit the retarders he shouted "Retard!" Upon hearing the command, the human retarder operator applied the retarders, slowing the boxcar down. Still counting the seconds, he waited for just the right moment before shouting "Release!" and the operator opened the retarders back up, allowing the boxcar to roll freely once more.

Arthur watched as the boxcar rolled towards the scoring zone, barely at a crawl. The boxcars door slowly moved through the 10 point zone before coming to a stop just inside the 5 point zone. The young Arthur was pleased with himself on the shot.

His opponent then took her shot. To his amazement, she managed to get the boxcar's door to stop right inside the 10 point zone. The game then proceeded with Arthur getting two 10 pointers and another 5 pointer. His opponent managed to get another 10 pointer and two 5 pointers, keeping them tied.

The game itself was coming down to the wire with a very high chance of an overtime round being played if it turned out to be a tie, even with the highest and lowest scores removed. The final shots of the game would be made by the young Arthur and his opponent. While the young Arthur was mostly concerned with winning, he was also impressed with his opponent's skill at the game. And whether he won or lost the game, he had it set in his mind that he would meet this engine.

Using all his concentration he shoved the boxcar down the track, called the retarders, and watched as the boxcar's door came to a rest right on the line between the 5 and 10 point zones. A judge went forward to measure the boxcar and determined that the boxcar was in the 5 point zone by 4 inches.

His opponent then took her shot and the exact same thing happened. The judge went forward to measure and declared the score to be 10, with the boxcar in the 10 point zone by 3 inches, and that the Santa Fe side won the game. The young Arthur looked on with an impressed smile as she was swarmed with railroad employees and fellow teammates.

After the game celebration, the young Arthur rolled up to the roundhouse. Standing in front of Mr. Fensworth's office was the Milwaukee Road engine from the game. "Ah, there you are, Arthur," he said when he noticed the young Arthur roll up. "I wanted to introduce you to Rebecca, Milwaukee Road #1603. I believe you remember her from the game earlier." Arthur rolled up on the track adjacent to them, watching the scene unfold before him.

The young Arthur, once getting a good look at the engine's face, was instantly blown away by her beauty. "Hello Arthur," she said with a sweet voice. "It's nice to meet you. Mr. Fensworth has been telling me a lot about you."

The young Arthur was almost speechless, but somehow found the words to say. "Um… I-it's nice to meet you too, Rebecca," he said timidly.

"I'll let the two of you get acquainted while I fetch myself some more cider," Mr. Fensworth said before walking away.

The young Arthur was now at a complete loss for words. He had never gotten the chance to talk to many female engines outside of his sister, except when it came to something work related. He was therefore rather greateful when Rebecca started the conversation. "I have to say, you're an excellent Kick Track player," she complimented.

"T-thank you," the young Arthur replied. "You're rather good looking yourself. I-I-I mean, you're a good player yourself." Great going, Arthur he said to himself after he corrected his embarrassing mistake.

Rebecca just laughed at what the young Arthur had said, making him blush a deep shade of red. "Well," Rebecca said still chuckling, "I have to say, you're rather good looking yourself. Are you always this smooth with the ladies?"

"N-not really," Arthur said meekly. "Most don't really say much to me unless it's work-related."

"Well you finally pulled one out of her shed, Romeo. And you can just call me Becca." She paused, then leaned forward to whisper, "And I should let you know that I only let certain engines call me that."

Arthur watched the scene unfold before him, the entire exchange between the two engines bringing back feelings and memories he hadn't felt in a long time. The Spirit rolled up along side of him. "Come," it said. "My time grows short and there is much more to see." Arthur stood for a second, still looking at his younger self talk to Rebecca before finally reversing to follow the Spirit.

The Spirit must have sensed how Arthur was feeling and called back to him. "As I recall, the two of you were rather inseparable from that point on."

"Yes," Arthur said, "That we were."

They were now approaching another set of bumping posts. And yet the spirit continued to talk to him. "And, as I recall, you swapped duties with Briley, just to spend time with her in Milwaukee." Briley, was a Brill gas-electric boxcab locomotive that worked GTW's car ferry yard in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. He was bought second hand from the Long Island Railroad in 1934, making him the first internal combustion engine on the railroad.

"Yes, I did that more times than I can count." Arthur said. As he thought about those days, one specific date popped into his head. He suddenly remembered it and shouted "No! Nonono! I don't want to see that day!" He instantly applied his breaks to try and stop, but his momentum carried him right through the bumping post.

When he came to a stop, he found himself on a dock overlooking the water. A large ship, with the name SS City of Milwaukee, was docked there with chunks of ice floating around it. The smell of fish filled the air as a cold wind blew off of Lake Michigan. Arthur knew exactly where he was this time. It was the ferry docks in Milwaukee. He knew exactly what he was about to see, and he didn't want to see it one bit.

Not too far away from him was a pair of diesel switchers. One was a Milwaukee Road Alco switcher, and the other was his younger self, this time with just the number 78.

"Becca, what's wrong? Why won't you talk to me about this?" Arthur heard his younger self say.

"Because if I did you wouldn't listen to me about it," she replied.

"Since when have I ever not listened to you?" he asked. "You're my girlfriend. I'll always listen to what you have to say."

"Like how you listened to what those Black Maria Sisters said?" she countered.

"They speak wisdom and truth. They are aware of one crucial thing, that we diesels are superior to steam engines."

"Is that really the case?" she asked. "Is that really what you believe is true?"

"It is," he replied.

"Then you're no longer the engine I once knew. You were always a kinder, gentler engine. You never cared whether someone was steam, diesel or electric when I met you."

"Because I was blind to the truth. I was blind to the facts of this world and this industry. And the Sisters have shown me the light."

"The Black Maria Sisters are a broken rail that derails anyone that travels over them. You have chosen that track. But I believe in the greater good. Yes, our type may be replacing steam locomotives, but that does not mean that we should despise them. And those so-called teachings make me wish I was never built by Alco."

"Are you even listening to yourself right now? They are weak, and we are strong. It's Darwin's principle that the weak will be overtaken by the strong."

"Since when are they weaker than you?" she challenged. "Both of us are amongst the weakest diesel engines on the rails. There are steam locomotive that can pull 20 times more freight or travel 20 times faster than us. And you think you're stronger than them simply because our kind is replacing them?"

"What's wrong with that? It doesn't matter to me if they're physically stronger than me. They're inferior to us."

"So you say time and again. Have you forgotten about what happened during World War II? Have you forgotten that during the war there were more steam locomotives than diesels? We were still technologically new by the time the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor. Most that were built were for switching duties like us or for passenger trains. Steam Locomotives held the position of freight, and they carried us through the war. If it wasn't for them, we'd all be speaking German right now, including your precious Black Marias!"

Rebecca paused, and a small tear started to form in her eye. Arthur, meanwhile, watched the scene unfold before him, the words she said stabbing at him like a jackhammer as he relived the memory. "You are no longer the Arthur I once knew. You're bitter and uncompassionate. And I don't like it. I don't want to be with an engine like that."

"What are you saying?" the young Arthur asked. "Are you telling me that you'd rather abandon me than accept the truth?"

"What is true and what is not has nothing to do with this. How do I know that you won't turn against me because of what I believe?"

"Becca, I love you. When would I ever turn against you?"

"You most likely have, even if you don't realize it yourself. If we were separate today and were interested in getting into a relationship, would you still accept me despite my beliefs that steam locomotives are not inferior to diesels?"

The young Arthur went to say something but held back. He wanted to say, 'No. I would never reject you.' But at the same time, he did believe that steam locomotives were inferior to diesels. And it would be hard for him to accept someone that believed otherwise.

"I thought you wouldn't," she said, with his silence being the answer she knew to be true. "Arthur, I know that Christmas is the worst time for this to happen, but we're through. I hope you remember this time we've shared. And I hope it will be a pain that haunts your life for all eternity."

With that, Rebecca rolled away from him. The young Arthur just stood there, watching her go. Arthur, filled with emotion, started shouted at his younger self. "What are you doing? Why are you just sitting there? You love her, don't you?" Tears started to form in his eyes as he continued shouting. Even though he knew his younger self couldn't hear him, he held on to the hope that he could. "Why won't you chase after her? Tell her she's right! Tell her that nothing would make you reject her!" He paused before shouting again "DO SOMETHING!"

But his younger self just rolled back towards the docks and disappeared into the yard. The spirit rolled up in front of him. "Come," it said. "There is more to see."

"No," Arthur said. "I'm done with you torturing me. I will not let you manipulate my emotions at your pleasure. Take me home this instant!"

"You will see!" the spirit said loudly. It blew its whistle with a chilling shriek and they were enveloped in golden sparkles. When they reappeared Arthur found that they were back in Chicago. As he looked around, he saw a Milwaukee Road freight train pull into the yard, with his younger self being pulled behind a set of EMD FT type diesels.

After he was taken off the train, the young Arthur made his way back to Elsdon Yard, a glum look on his face. On his way, he saw a black diesel locomotive that was parked on a siding in the yard. He recognized the locomotive immediately, the number 1500A giving its identity away immediately.

"Maria!" he exclaimed as he rolled up.

Maria looked in the direction of the voice and saw the small switcher moving towards her. "Do I know you?" she asked.

The young Arthur was a little disappointed that she didn't remember him. "It's me, Arthur. We met here a few months ago when you and your sisters were giving a speech. I came up to you afterwards and we had a nice conversation."

"Ah, yes. Now I remember," she said. "I apologize but with all the diesels that come to talk to me I tend to forget names and faces. How have you been?"

"Not the best since yesterday." He then explained to her everything that happened with Rebecca.

"I see," she said once he was finished explaining. "Well, I'm sorry that you had to go through this, but in all honesty you're probably better off without her. If she truly believes what you claim, and refuses to accept the truth, then she is doomed to suffer the same fate as steamers. And then you'd be hurting a lot more than you are now."

"Yeah," he said. "I suppose you're right. But I just can't stop thinking about her. I really did love her."

"I can understand that, but you can't be dwelling on her. Find something that would take your mind off her, like getting work done. Try to be the best diesel switcher you can be. If you focus all your time on work, then you won't have time to worry about her."

"And," she continued, "If I'm completely honest, I don't even believe that relationships are relevant on the railroads. They're just a waste of time that keeps us from being reliable and doing the tasks we were built for."

She leaned forward and whispered, "Can I tell you a secret?" she asked. The young Arthur nodded and she said, "I don't even consider Mary and Martha my sisters. They don't think of me or each other as sisters either. It was simply a name we were given because we were built at the same time and are of the same model. We just go with it for the convenience of others."

The young Arthur was a little surprised by this, but it made sense to him. Yet he was still a bit hesitant about heeding what she had told him. Maria must have seen this in his expression and responded accordingly. "Everyone is different, Arthur. We all make our own choices. There are engines that accept our teachings vigorously, and there are others like this 'Becca' you mentioned that reject it immediately. We can't force anyone to believe the truth. But remember that every choice we make has consequences. We just need to choose the right track so that we don't end up in a world of despair."

The young Arthur nodded. "I agree. Thank you, Maria. I appreciate your council and wisdom. I will work on what you recommend."

"Good engine," she said. "I hope you have a good day, now that you have something to strive towards."

Arthur watched as his younger self rumbled away. Everything he had seen since the spirit visited him came back to him. He saw how his life had changed, and how he had let so many things slip through his coupler knuckle. "Why are you doing this to me, Spirit?" he asked. "Do you like forcing people to relive painful memories? Do you enjoy torturing engines like me with these demented mind games of yours?"

"I told you," the spirit said, "These are shadows of the past. They are the choices you made in your life They have all happened and cannot be altered or erased. You cannot blame me for them."

"Please take me home! I-I can't take this anymore!" Arthur pleaded.

The spirit looked at him with an emotionless face. Then, in a move that shocked Arthur, its face began to change. First it showed the face of his sister Anne. Then its face changed to that of Mr. Fensworth, if it was even possible for an engine to have the face of a human. Then Arthur saw the face of Richard and then of Rebecca. The face suddenly shifted back to Anne, restarting the cycle which began to repeat itself, gaining speed with every shift.

Arthur, unable to take anymore, charged the spirit shouting, "STOP HAUNTING ME!" As he rammed into the spirit, it let loose a deafening shriek from its whistle and disintegrated into a cloud of golden sparkles.

As the pinpoints of light faded around him, Arthur broke down in sobs. All the regret from his past, all the things he went through, all the joyous memories he had let go of came back to him. As he started to control himself, he found that he was back in his shed. The door was still shut and locked and the light was still on. His engine was also shut down and he could no longer move under his own power. But he thought nothing of it. He simply closed his eyes in an attempt to let sleep overtake him.


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter 3_

It seemed to Arthur that he had barely closed his eyes for a second when he heard the clock tower begin to chime, this time marking 2:00 o'clock. However, unlike the previous time, nothing happened. And for several minutes, still nothing happened. For a moment, Arthur wondered if anything would happen at all and he should just go back to sleep. That is until he noticed the light coming from under the shed door.

As soon as he noticed it, he heard the sound of laughter. It was a booming, joyous laughter. One that would make you want to smile no matter how you were feeling. In fact, the laughter was so joyous it seemed to start Arthur's engine on its own when it suddenly roared to life.

Arthur decided to investigate the disturbance, prepared for just about anything after his ordeal with the previous Spirit. But just as he went to turn his wheels, he heard a booming voice. "Enter, Arthur." Heeding the voice's words, Arthur rolled forward and pushed the shed doors open with ease, the booming laughter continuing. Before him was a scene he could barely imagine.

Instead of finding the grade crossing and the entrance to Dequindre Cut, he found himself inside of a locomotive shop, rather similar to the GTW's shops in Battle Creek except a bit smaller. And unlike a normal shop, this one was decorated with all kinds of things. Green garlands strung with lights and red bows hung all around the walls and wrapped around every support post.

Laid out on tables all across the shop were all kinds of cooked food; turkeys, pies, cakes, casseroles, puddings and so much more. Off to the left was a massive fir tree that seemed to reach to the ceiling, decorated with lights, bows, candy canes and shiny ornaments.

Standing in the middle of the shop was a jolly giant of an engine. His three headlights, one mounted high upon his forehead and the other two sitting on his front pilot, shone with such intensity it illuminated everything in front of him, including Arthur as he crept forward through his shed door.

"Come in!" exclaimed the engine in a deep, booming but jolly voice as he laughed loudly. "Come in! And know me better!"

Arthur moved forward, with his gaze falling down towards the horizon. Although the Spirit's eyes were filled with joy and kindness, Arthur didn't feel comfortable looking into them for some unknown reason.

"Who are you, Great Spirit?" He asked, slowly.

"I am the Spirit of Christmas Present," he replied with a warm chuckle. "Look at me."

Arthur hesitantly looked up at the Spirit. He was unlike any engine Arthur had seen before. It was a steam locomotive, that much was clear. But the fact of how long and tall he was took him by surprise. The engine had seven massive axles strung out underneath his equally massive boiler with sets of two axles underneath both his cylinders and firebox, giving him a 4-14-4 wheel arrangement. His faceplate, which was rather large in and of itself, had a thick red mustache and beard that hung almost to his cowcatcher, and his blushed cheeks and nose added to his bright and cheerful smile, making almost anyone that saw it want to smile.

His smokebox and firebox were painted silver and an ornate wreath of Holly and Ivy hung around his smokestack. His boiler was ornately painted in a bright brunswick green with white and gold trim. His wheels were black with gold trimmed spokes and white-walled tires. His driving rods were a shiny silver and he had a pair of massive chrome-capped cylinders so shiny you could use them as a mirror. His cab displayed the number "1954" in ornate gold-leaf detail and was topped with a red roof and red window trim. On his tender was a large, eight point Star of Bethlehem, which was trimmed with gold and white pinstriping and surrounded by a golden halo.

"You haven't seen an engine like me before, have you?" the Spirit asked.

"No," Arthur replied, "I can't say that I have."

"You've never driven alongside my elder brothers," the Spirit said.

"Well, obviously not as I've never seen any engine like you before." He paused then, thinking about the statement, asked, "Um, how many brothers do you have?"

The Spirit chuckled loudly. "Over nineteen hundred fifty, but not all of them are engines like me."

"Nineteen hundred fifty?" Arthur exclaimed. "That must be a large railroad?"

The Spirit laughed loudly. "Indeed, Arthur."

"Spirit, what is all of this? I've never seen a human feast this elaborate."

"These are the fruits of generosity. Fruits that you have denied to both human and engine alike."

"Why should I show people generosity," Arthur challenged. "No one has ever shown generosity to me."

"Because you've never given them a chance to," the Spirit countered. "But, I believe that you will have a moment of realization in that regard during your time with me."

"Very well, Spirit. I have learned a lot in my previous journey, and believe that I'm starting to change. I will allow you to show me what you want."

The Spirit laughed loudly and released a cloud of steam from his cylinders that enveloped the entire shop. Everything around them disappeared into the clouds and then, as the steam dissipated Arthur found that they were standing on a piece of railroad track running down a downtown street.

Stretched high across the street were garlands and wreaths of gold and silver tinsel. The trees along the sidewalks, while bare of leaves, were strung with shiny white lights. The lampposts were decorated with frames outlining Fir trees, reindeer, candy canes, candles and bows.

The two were standing at an intersection, and lined all up and down the cross street were throngs of people. "Spirit," Arthur said, "Why are all these people out here?"

The Spirit chuckled and said, "Listen and look."

Arthur did, and began to hear music. It was marching band music and it was gradually getting louder. Arthur looked in the direction it was coming from and saw a parade making its way down the cross street. Large marching bands played a variety of Christmas tunes with festive floats and giant balloons intermingled in between.

Arthur realized that they were watching a Christmas parade. He had heard of them but had never seen one before. And the joyous atmosphere made him smile as he watched the faces of the children. He heard the clanging of a bell and watched as a pair of PCC trolley cars, outfitted with Christmas decorations, rolled past, the two trolleys beaming from ear to ear as they clanged their bells joyously.

As the end of the parade drew near, a large float, larger than any other before it, appeared. Along its bottom were tiny houses and trees, all coated in a blanket of snow. And seeming to fly over them were nine reindeer, the lead one possessing a shiny red nose. All nine were hauling a giant red and gold sleight carrying a giant bag overflowing with brightly wrapped boxes. A large plump man with a bushy white beard in a red and white suit rode in the sleigh, laughing and waving to the crowd, who in turn cheered back.

Arthur knew exactly who it was. He had heard the stories about him many times before. "Santa Clause," he exclaimed.

The Spirit chuckled. "Ho ho, so you do know a few things about Christmas."

"Only the things I've been told," Arthur admitted.

As the float disappeared, all the people then started to disperse. "Spirit," Arthur said. "Where are they all going?"

"They are headed to their homes to celebrate Christmas with their loved ones. Come."

The Spirit released another cloud of steam that enveloped both of them, and soon they found themselves on a pair of train tracks that were extremely unusual to Arthur. For one thing, the rails were extremely bulky and shiny. The ties were also bulky, made of metal and spread much, much further apart than ties normally would be. Additionally, a third rail ran down the middle of the tracks, just as large as the other two rails.

As Arthur looked around, he realized that they were sitting under a massive pine tree, all decorated with lights, shiny ornaments and strings of popcorn. "Spirit, where are we?"

"We are in the home of a human family on Christmas morning. The tracks you see are those of a model train. It is a tradition in many families to have one running under a Christmas tree."

As he said this, Arthur heard a loud commotion. "Wake up! Wake up! Santa's been here! Santa's been here!" came the voice of a young girl. "Hurry up, hurry up! Mom! Dad! Wake up! Wake Uuup! Santa's been here! Santa's been here!" Arthur looked up as a young girl dressed in a green pajama blouse with pink polka-dots came running down the steps still excitedly shouting. Following her was a young boy wearing a blue robe and yellow pants, whose face was just as full of amazement and excitement as the young girl.

"Look! A train! A train!" the little girl said excitedly, pointing to the tracks Arthur and the Spirit were on. The boy ran over and reached for a control box and pulled a lever. From behind Arthur, a little model train started to move and passed the two. As it looped and weaved its way underneath the tree, Arthur could see the children's eyes as they were filled with excitement.

Arthur watched as the scene unfolded before him. The two children excitedly opened up gift after gift. Their parents also exchanged a few gifts and a kiss or two. Arthur and the Spirit followed the family throughout the rest of their Christmas festivities, ending with a full Christmas dinner with more family members, gifts and stories. Amongst the stories, was one that the father said was the true meaning of Christmas; the birth of a child named Jesus Christ.

"Spirit, I had no idea Christmas could be like this," Arthur said when the festivities drew to a close.

"There is a lot that you don't know, especially since these are human families. But there are many humans that aren't as well off as them." Steam enveloped the two and they soon found themselves on another track in a downtown street. "Look," the Spirit said as they pulled up to an alleyway.

Arthur looked and saw a group of three men in ragged clothing, huddled around a burn barrel. "What are these humans doing here?"

"These are homeless men. They have no employment and no family that will accept them. Some because of their own choices. Others because of the choices made by others. And yet, they still hold me close in their hearts." As the Spirit said this, the three started singing Christmas songs together; no hint of sorrow or grief coming from their voices.

Steam enveloped them again and they found themselves on another model train track. This time, they were in a large open room with some round tables and chairs. Arthur looked out and saw a myriad of children in white robes; some walked around with crutches. Others sat in wheel chairs. And nearly all of them had gloomy faces. "Where are we now?" Arthur asked.

"This is a children's hospital. These children suffer from disease or injury. Some run the risk of death. And yet they keep me close in their hearts as well." As he said this, a man dressed as Santa Clause walked into the room with a large bag full of presents. All the children cheered and those that could rushed towards him. Arthur smiled as he watched the faces of the children light up instantly upon seeing Santa.

"It's good to know that Christmas brings joy to those that have none," Arthur said.

"That is the main reason why many who do not celebrate the birth of Christ still partake in its festivities," the Spirit said. "Come. There is more to see."

When they arrived at the next stop on this "Tour of Christmas" as Arthur was beginning to call it, he recognized the location only from times he had worked or passed through on his way to a new job. It was the roundhouse in Pontiac.

Rolling up to the roundhouse, Arthur saw several GTW steam locomotives filling most of the ten stalls. Amongst them were locomotives that he recognized. Two of them were Christine's sisters, Connie #5030 and Clair #5043. There was also Dustin, 0-8-0 #8305, Steve, 4-6-2 #5629, Justin, 2-8-2 #4070, and Lawrence, 4-8-4 #6323.

"Oh, this'll be an exciting Christmas," Clair exclaimed.

"Yes it will," Lawrence said. "Didn't you say that your brother Chris is coming?"

"Yes he is. He and Christine were practically inseparable when he first arrived on the railroad."

"I can tell she'll be very happy when she sees him," Connie said. "But shouldn't he have been here an hour ago? Christine and Riley should be back any minute now."

As if on cue, several choruses of whistles came from the south and an 0-8-0 with the number 8380 rolled in with an engine that was the same as Christine and her sisters. The only difference was that he was lettered for Canadian National and bore the number 5049.

The 0-8-0 uncoupled from the engine and rolled onto the turntable "I have come with a gift," he said with a chuckle as it started to turn him towards one of the open stalls.

"Oh, it's so good to see you again Chris," Clair said with her face beaming with joy. "Thank you for bringing him Dillon."

"My pleasure ladies," Dillon said as he backed into his stall.

"Welcome to Pontiac," Steve said. "I take it you're the brother that everyone keeps talking about?"

"That I am. And Merry Christmas. It's nice to meet all of you. And it's good to see you again Clair, Connie." He looked around and asked, "Where's Chrissy?"

"She went to go get Riley," Justin explained. "He broke down again just outside of Durand and she went to his rescue."

"Ah. I'm happy to hear they're still together," Chris said. "I just hope he's able to get fixed quickly." All the other engines looked at each other forlornly upon hearing Chris's statement. "What?" Chris asked.

"You probably haven't heard then, have you?" Clair said. "He's been this way for months. He keeps losing steam pressure and sometimes he can barely keep going without help. It makes us a little concerned for his wellbeing."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that."

A signature three-chime whistle blew from the north that got everyone's attention. "That's them now!" Connie said. "Quick! Hide in one of the stalls. Let's surprise her."

With a chuckle and a smile, Chris quickly backed into an open stall. Just as the workmen shut the door, Christine and Riley pulled into the yard with a short freight train. After dropping it off, they backed up to the roundhouse.

Arthur watched as the 2-8-0 with the number 2683 that Christine had brought with her rolled back into a stall with difficulty. He noticed right away that he seemed to be leaking steam in a few places as he struggled to reverse. He also saw his frame rock back and forth with every thrust of his cylinders.

"Merry Christmas everyone," Christine said.

"Welcome back," Clair said. "I hope you didn't have much trouble today."

"Not at all. You should know by now that it's no problem for me to rescue my man." She paused for a moment. "Why's my stall door shut?"

Clair and the others looked at each other with a mischievous smile. Suddenly the stall doors opened and out chuffed Chris.

Christine was ecstatic. "By the Great Father! Chris! I can't believe you're here!"

"How could I not spend Christmas with my sisters and their friends?" he asked.

"Oh my goodness, it's so good to see you again!"

"It's good to see you too, sister," Chris said. "And you too Riley. I'm… I'm sorry to hear about your predicament."

"Yes, it-" Riley was interrupted by a spat of coughing. "It's good to see you too, Chris," he said as he recovered. "And I'm dealing with it as best I can. You know, just before I broke down, I saw some children playing in the snow near the tracks. And I hoped that they saw me," he coughed again, "problems and all, still doing my best to pull my train. And that they would be reminded that no matter what they're dealing with, to persevere and pull through. Because the reward you get when you do is great."

As he said this, Christine's eyes got misty. "Yes, well you're here now," she said, clearing her eyes. "And it's Christmas. Let's have some fun."

Arthur and the Spirit watched as they played games and sang songs together, all enjoying each other's company and that of their crews. As they finished one song, Arthur spoke up "You know, I've been doing a lot of thinking lately. Steam engines are gradually being replaced by diesels. Many-" he coughed, "many railroads no longer have any steam engines at all. But there is still hope for us. I've been hearing that a good number are being preserved, put on display in museums and parks for people to see."

"My driver was playing the radio recently and I heard a new song called Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas. I'm not sure if any of you have heard it."

"I've heard it," Steve said.

"So have I," Lawrence added.

A few other engines also nodded in affirmation.

"Then why don't we sing it together. I feel that it's rather appropriate for this time in our lives," Riley said.

Arthur watched as he began to sing, and was joined in by some of the other engines.

"Have yourself a merry little Christmas

Let your heart be light

Next year all our troubles will be out of sight

Have yourself a merry little Christmas

Make the yuletide gay

Next year all our troubles will be miles away

Once again as in olden days

Happy golden days of yore

Faithful friends who are dear to us

Will be near to us once more

Someday soon we all will be together

If the fates allow

Until then we'll have to muddle through somehow

So have yourself a merry little Christmas now"

Barely anyone had a dry eye once they were done singing. Even Arthur found himself with misty eyes. He watched as Riley began going into another coughing fit when he finished singing. "Spirit," he said. "Do you know what will happen to Riley?" He said this with genuine concern. He had never met an engine that was so positive in desperate times.

The Spirit looked on solemnly. "My realm is the Present, not the future. But I see a vacant stall in the roundhouse. And a crew without an engine. If these shadows remain unaltered by the future, he will be scrapped. And none of my future brothers will share Christmas with him."

"No. Please tell me it isn't so."

"Why should it matter though?" Arthur looked at the Spirit rather confused. "If he's going to be scrapped he'd better do it soon. And decrease their unnecessary existence."

The words Arthur had said the evening before came back to him with a vengeance. And he immediately regretted saying them. But as he hung his head in shame, he heard something that he was not expecting.

"Why don't we send a whistle cheer to Arthur," Christine said.

"Why should we do that?" Clair said, the annoyance she had clearly showing in her voice. "Of all the engines to whistle a cheer to, Arthur is the last one I would imagine. And of all the engines to know why, you should know it better than anyone." A few of the other engines agreed with her.

"That may be true," Christine said. "But if it wasn't for the work he does, some of us would still be working right now, and we wouldn't have as much time to spend with those that are close to us."

Clair muddled over the words her sister said. "Oh very well. I'll do it for you, not him. A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to Arthur. I have no doubt he'll be very happy and merry."

"To Arthur," the rest of the engines said in unison before blowing their whistles.

Arthur was stunned that even after everything he had said and put Christine and the others through, they would still wish him well on Christmas.

"Come. The night is waning fast," the Spirit said. They left the scene with a lot for Arthur to think about. They disappeared into a cloud of steam and appeared at another roundhouse, this one much larger than Pontiac. And as they emerged, Arthur heard the sound of laughter and a voice he recognized.

"Well done Frank," he heard Sidney said. "I thought she had you with that one."

Frank, a Detroit, Toledo & Shore Line SW7, chuckled brightly and looked at Daisy, a Detroit Terminal DS4-4-1000. "I can't believe you were actually thinking of Mrs. Freeman's Famous Fruitcake," he said. "Or how awful Mr. Freeman says it always is."

The engines all laughed again and a New York Central Niagara named Devrie spoke up. "Ugh… Mr. Freeman tossed his wife's most recent loaf of that stuff into my firebox. Trust me, if burning it was anywhere close to what it tastes like, then I can't help but wonder if Mrs. Freeman is trying to feed her husband with it or poison him."

Another round of laughter and Arthur couldn't help but smile at what he was witnessing. "They're playing Mastermind," he said.

"Ho ho, indeed they are Arthur," the Spirit jovially said. "Were you any good at this game?"

Arthur sighed. "I don't know. I've only heard of it. It's a relatively new game to us engines, or so I've heard."

Sidney made an announcement. "So, I believe with that round, my dear Daisy, Joe, Frank, Sherman and Jack all have one point. Devrie and Melina are tied at two points each. And Elvin, Stephanie and myself need to get on the crankshaft as it were if we're to even get on the scoreboard."

The engines laughed. "You've got it darling," said his girlfriend Daisy.

"Right. So who's turn is it now? Who is the Mastermind for this round?"

"It's your turn Sidney," said Elvin, a New York Central F3A. "You're the only one who hasn't been Mastermind yet."

"Hm, so it would seem," Sidney said. "Very well then, I'm the Mastermind." He stared down at the track in front of him in deep thought for a moment. "All right… I'm thinking of something. And since I started the last round, it's back to you Daisy dear. You go first."

In this game, the "Mastermind" of the round thought of something, anything. It could be living like a person or not, as in the case of the last round, a loaf of fruitcake. But whatever it was, it had to be something physical. Emotions, feelings and anything else that could not be detected by the five traditional senses was not allowed.

The other engines in the group then went in round-robin fashion asking "yes" or "no" questions as they tried to figure out and guess what the Mastermind was thinking of. If the Mastermind answered "yes" to a question, the engine that asked it got to ask another question. But if the Mastermind answered "no", the engine's turn was over and play proceeded to the next engine. The engine that correctly guessed what the Mastermind was thinking of, won a point. However, if no one had correctly guessed what the Mastermind was thinking of by the twentieth answer of "no", then the Mastermind was said to have "stumped the group" and won the point himself. The Mastermind also could win the point after 50 questions in general, regardless of the answers.

Traditionally the winner was the first one to score 10 points, but higher and lower adjustments were often made depending on the size of the group and/or how much time had passed since they started playing. This particular group was playing to 5 points.

Daisy asked her first question. "Is what you're thinking of dead?"

"No it is not."

Elvin was up next. "Was what you're thinking of ever alive to begin with?"

"Some might not think so, but yes."

"Then may I conclude that whatever you are thinking of was, and still is now, alive?"

"Yes."

"Is it a human?"

"No it is not."

"Darn," Elvin grumbled.

Play now moved to Joe, a GP7 from the Wabash. "So if it's not a human, then it's an engine. Is that engine one of us?"

Sidney rolled his eyes. This was Joe's first time playing Mastermind and the questions he'd asked so far had made that abundantly clear. "No it is not. Melina, you're up."

Melina was a Canadian National F7A number 9074. She'd come in from Montreal earlier in the day on a special run and her French Canadian accent had charmed everyone in the roundhouse. "Sacre bleu, eet ees to me already? Well, does the engine you are thinking of belong to a railroad that ees represented by one of us here?"

"Yes."

"Ees the engine female?"

"I'm sorry, but no Melina. Stephanie?"

Stephanie was a Grand Trunk Western 4-8-2 number 6039. "Is it a New York Central engine?"

"No it is not. Frank?"

"Let's back up a bit here," Frank suggested. "Is the engine you're thinking of one that we know?"

Sidney thought for a moment. "Mmmm, most of you know who he is, so I'll give you a yes on that Frank."

"All right," Frank replied. "Is he a steam engine?"

"Nope. Sorry. Sherman, it's to you now."

"Is he from the Wabash, like me?"

"No he's not. Jack?"

"So he's diesel and he's not from the Wabash or the New York Central, but the railroad he belongs to is one that one of us here belongs to," Jack made some conclusions. "Is he from the Canadian National?"

"Technically no he is not. Devrie, the ball is yours so to speak."

"Technically no, hm," she said. "Does that mean he's from the Grand Trunk Western?"

Sidney nodded. "Yes he is."

A gleam appeared in Devrie's eye and she smiled. "Does he have a rather crabby personality?"

"Yes he does," Sidney said with a smile.

"Are you thinking of your Uncle Arthur?"

"Indeed I am, well done Devrie!" Sidney announced as a chorus of laughs and congratulations went around the group. "So that's three points for Devrie now everyone. Two more and she'll be declared the winner."

"I swear Sidney darling, you're Uncle Arthur is really something," said Daisy with more than a hint of sarcasm.

"No Daisy," Jack interrupted. "His Uncle Arthur is something else."

That brought a renewed rumble of laughs from the group and Melina made a comment. "Still, eesn't eet a little sad that he's somewhere spending Christmas all alone and not here with us?"

"After the way we've been talking about him, I don't think he'd want to be here with us," Sherman pointed out.

Melina argued her point. "But would we be talking about him like this eef he was here?"

"Point made Melina, because no, we wouldn't be," Sidney replied. "Even if he did tell me that Christmas was nothing but a load of balderdash."

Some of the other engines groaned in frustration. "Like Jack said, your uncle is something else," Daisy said.

"Oh I know Daisy. But at the same time, I can't help but feel sorry for him. I've tried time and again but no matter what happens, what he says or what he does, I just can't bring myself to be angry with him. Whether he chooses to accept it or not, he's family. And if he chooses to be miserable and retracted, that's his choice. If he chooses to not join us for Christmas, what does he miss?"

"Only the best Christmas party in all of Michigan," Frank said.

"That he does," Elvin agreed as did the other engines in the group.

"Thank you all for the compliment," Sidney said with a heavy sigh. "I just wish he'd open up a bit and give it and us a chance. It's not like having a good time will hurt him or anything. And it's certainly not like he's got anything better to do on Christmas. For years now, I've been faithfully inviting him to these parties, and every year he refuses and mocks me for having them. Well, just because he dislikes Christmas with a passion doesn't mean that I should. And in that respect, I will never be like him."

"Here, here," Stephanie cheered, with the others agreeing.

"But even so," Sidney said. "It is Christmas. And in that Spirit, I say we should wish him well, whether he likes it or not."

"If you insist darling," Daisy replied.

"I do Daisy. To Uncle Arthur, wherever he is."

"To Uncle Arthur," everyone said in unison which was followed by a long, loud chine of horns and whistles.

Arthur was silent the entire time. How could more people be wishing him well, especially after how they were making fun of him and his behavior?

The Spirit looked at Arthur. "Despite everything you've done to ruin your relationship with him, your nephew still respects you and wishes nothing but happiness and joy. Not just now, but always. It speaks volumes about his character… and yours."

Arthur didn't look at the Spirit, but silently agreed with him.

"Come," the Spirit prompted. "The night grows shorter still and there is much more to see."

Once again, they disappeared into a cloud of steam and appeared on a track next to a quaint little railroad station. A second track was beside them on the left and ran right next to station platform. As Arthur and the Spirit rolled in, Arthur made out the word "Ishpeming" on the station.

A light snow was falling and Arthur could hear music and celebration coming from inside the station. Another Christmas party no doubt, but something else got his attention, an engine on the left track. And even though the engine's rear was to him as he approached, Arthur nevertheless recognized at once who it was. The utterly brilliant gray and orange Hiawatha paint scheme that had enchanted him so much had been replaced by a simpler black and orange design. But it didn't matter. She was still the most beautiful engine he'd ever known.

"Rebecca!" Arthur called out as he rolled up beside her. "Rebecca, it's me. It's Arthur!"

"She is but an image Arthur and cannot hear or see you," the Spirit reminded him. "You already know that."

Arthur bowed his head in shame. Oh if only she could hear him. But so much time had passed since they'd last seen one another that Arthur wasn't sure he'd know what to say to her if she could hear him. How could he possibly apologize to her for giving up on her and their relationship without so much as even trying to fight for it?

He looked around the station and saw a trio of old passenger coaches parked on a nearby spur. He then correctly guessed that Rebecca had pulled those coaches earlier as part of a Christmas celebration. A celebration that was now continuing inside the station as she sat alone on the track.

"Spirit, why is she here all alone," he asked. "She looks very sad."

Before the Spirit could answer, a whistle sounded from somewhere ahead of them. And Rebecca's face lit up as out of the snow and fog, a headlight appeared. The unmistakable chuff of a steam engine approached and before long, a Lake Superior & Ishpeming steam engine puffed into the station and stopped just a few inches in front of Rebecca. Arthur could see that the steam engine was a 2-8-0 consolidation, wore the number 35 and had a pleasant, yet strong aura around him. "Hello Becca dear. Merry Christmas," he smiled.

Rebecca smiled. "Merry Christmas dear Isaac." And with that she learned forward to kiss him.

Arthur was outraged. "What blasphemy is this you show me Spirit!" he raged. "A diesel in love with a steam engine? Diesels and steam engines kissing? It's not allowed! Not allowed I tell you!"

"By whose rules or standards Arthur?" the Spirit yelled. "Yours? The Black Marias? Tell me, do humans of different races not occasionally love each other? Do humans of the same gender not occasionally love each other? Why then should a steam engine not a love a diesel and vice versa, Arthur?! Tell me why if you can?!"

As the Spirit expected Arthur had no answer for his challenge and instead, kept his silence.

The kiss between Rebecca and Isaac slowly broke and she exhaled with relief. "I was afraid you weren't going to get here."

"So was I for a while," Isaac admitted. "I've been running my tender ragged at the docks in Marquette all day. How was your Christmas special?"

With a playful smirk, Rebecca jerked her head towards the station. "Can't you hear?"

Isaac laughed. "Yes of course. Silly me." He kissed her again. "Oh Becca, it's so wonderful to have you here with me on Christmas. It's the best present I could've ever received." He kissed her once more but as he pulled back, he noticed she seemed a little sad about something. "You all right dear?"

"Hm?" She caught herself. "Oh, I'm fine Isaac. I was just thinking about someone." She sighed deeply. "Someone I was involved with before you."

With a mischievous grin, Isaac said, "I'm not sure I like the sound of that."

"Oh please don't worry Isaac," Rebecca said. "He belongs to the past. But every now and then, especially on Christmas, I can't help but wonder how he's doing. His name was Arthur and he was a diesel. We met during a Christmas celebration many years ago."

"Forgive me for being nosy Becca, but what was he like," Isaac wondered.

"He was a lot like you in many ways," Rebecca claimed. "Strong, charming, confident, good natured… a real joy to be around."

Isaac sensed it. "But…"

"Somewhere along the way he began to change and not for the better," Rebecca said. "He started believing that diesels were superior to steam engines and that we were the future. He believed that steam engines were useless and needed to be scrapped fast. He became so bigoted and heartless that by the time I told him we were through, I could barely recognize him. He certainly wasn't the engine I met all those years ago on Christmas Eve. Leaving him was the hardest thing I've ever done because I really did love him once." A tear fell from her eye.

"I… I'm sorry Becca," Isaac said. "I had no idea."

She sniffed and straightened herself up. "It's all right dear Isaac. I hope he's well and in good Spirits, but like I said he's in the past. And that's where he belongs. You're my present and my future Isaac."

Isaac smiled. "I love you Rebecca."

"I love you Isaac."

As they kissed again, tears fell from Arthur's eyes onto the track, freezing to ice almost instantly. "That… that could be me sitting there with her instead of Isaac," he sobbed. "That should be me with her." He sniffed in sadness. "She was right about one thing… the day she left me has haunted me ever since. I fear it will continue to haunt me right up until my final run."

"Remember your own words well Arthur," the Spirit told him. "Because even you do not yet know how truthful they could very well become. Now come, we must be going."

"No Spirit please, I beg you. Just let me stay here a moment longer with them."

But the Spirit beckoned him onward anyway and they continued their journey. They visited railroads far and wide, all across the globe. Whether it was Narrow gauge or broad gauge, they always found themselves fitting the tracks just the right way. And no matter how tight a curve or tunnel was, the Spirit seemed to just bend with the tracks and squeeze through without effort.

Presently, they came across an open field that overlooked a small town, with a church steeple rising in the moonlight. Arthur looked at the Spirit and noticed that he had changed greatly. When he first met him, the Spirit seemed full of life and freshly painted. Now, he was covered in grime and dirt. His paint was faded and worn. And his beard and mustache had changed too. While they had been rich and red when they first met, they were now wiry and white.

"Are Spirits' lives so short?" Arthur asked.

"My time on earth is very brief. It ends tonight at the stroke of 12."

With that, Arthur heard the church steeple begin to chime. Upon the first bell, Arthur watched as the connecting rod of the Spirit broke loose and dug into the ground, derailing him and bringing him to a halt.

"Spirit! Are you all right?" Arthur said as he rushed to his side.

"It is normal for my kind," the Spirit said with a bit of pain in his voice. "It is how we end our lives."

As Arthur looked on at the Spirit with concern, he glanced further down the tracks and noticed something.

"Spirit, what are those that you pull? They look like freight cars but they are rather unusual."

"They are the freight cars of man. I am forced to carry them because of the actions of humans."

Arthur rolled down the tracks to get a better look. The first car looked like a flat car, but it was extremely bulky and had a large cylinder-shaped canister in the center. But what was written on it was something that Arthur had been hearing about more ever since the end of WWII. "Danger: Radioactive!"

The second car was very long and unusual in its own right. It too was a bulky flat car, but it had a long, tapered cylinder on it. Arthur recognized it as a railway cannon.

"The first car is the ignorance of man," said the Spirit. "The second is the greed of man. Beware them both, but most of all ignorance. For on it is written doom."

As the church bell rang out its final chimes, Arthur watched in horror as the Spirit began to rust rapidly. Parts fell off him until he was a shell of his former self. Then the parts simply collapsed into dust which drifted away in the wind.

Arthur looked around. He was completely alone and had no idea where he was or how he would be getting home. What was worse was that a fog had started to roll in, making what he saw more difficult. But he decided that the best way to get home was to just start moving forward along the tracks until he found the way to go.

But as he started his journey, he noticed something through the fog ahead of him. At first it looked like some sort of shadow. But as he got closer he realized it wasn't an ordinary shadow. It was a phantom engine.


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter 4_

Arthur stared at the phantom engine before him, completely frozen with fear. It was a diesel locomotive painted jet black that looked similar to locomotives like the Fairbanks Morse H20-44 or Alco HH660, with a full height hood and a cab at one end. But it had several ominous features that, just by themselves, managed to instill fear deep into Arthur's core.

The first was a three prong scrap claw that was attached to its roofline. The second was that the engine had no face. Instead it had what resembled a bulky snowplow on its front end. And finally, it had a single mars light mounted high atop its front end. But unlike normal mars lights that were illuminated evenly across the lens, the light from this one seemed to emanate from a single point and get darker the further it got away from the center. And no matter how one moved around it, the point of light seemed to follow you.

Arthur knew immediately who he was in the presence of. But he had to be sure. "A-are you the Spirit of Christmas that is yet to come?" he asked with a quiver in his voice.

The Spirit stood silently, no noise coming from it whatsoever.

Not wanting to hesitate on getting an answer, Arthur continued. "You are going to show me things that have not happened but will happen in the future, correct Spirit?"

Still the Spirit did not answer him.

"Spirit, I fear you more than any other specter I have seen. But I know that this is for my own good. So I will follow you with a willing and thankful heart."

The Spirit seemed to just rotate on its own, turning itself around on the tracks it was standing on as if it was on an invisible turntable. Its claw reached up and a single prong lifted up while the other two collapsed inward, as if to point in a specific direction: Onward.

"Oh, yes Spirit. Lead on." As the two moved on, the scene before them seemed to melt away and a new scene melted into view before them. Arthur found himself in Milwaukee Junction on a cold, rainy day. As he started to look around, he overheard two workers talking nearby.

"I don't know much about it, other than he's been scrapped," the first one said.

"What? When?" asked the other worker.

"Yesterday, apparently. Something about a derailment or something."

"I thought he'd never be scrapped."

"Well he was. But there's nothing we can do about it. Not that it matters to me one way or another that he was scrapped."

"I agree. He was a pain to be around to begin with."

"Anyways, let's go grab some lunch. I'm hungry."

Arthur watched the two men walk away. He knew who they were, but he looked at the spirit for an answer. The spirit simply lifted its claw and pointed towards two GTW engines, an 0-8-0 and a 4-8-4 that were meeting at the diamond.

"Good morning. How is your day?" the 4-8-4 asked.

"Very well," the 0-8-0 replied. "The miser has finally met his end."

"So I've heard. Well the weather seems appropriate."

"Perhaps. Have a good day."

And with that, the two were on their way.

Arthur still didn't understand why the spirit was showing him these things. And as he looked around, he couldn't find himself anywhere. But the most likely explanation was that he was out somewhere else. Which was likely so since he had already made plans to change his ways and be different. And it was possible that these were already being represented in what he was seeing. Still, he couldn't figure out who the workers and engines could be talking about.

The spirit moved forward and Arthur followed him. And as they did, the scene before them seemed to melt and shift on its own yet again. When everything righted itself, Arthur found himself on a model train set inside a building. All along the walls were a multitude of model trains.

"Spirit, where are we?" Arthur asked.

For an answer, the spirit simply pointed at a door. As Arthur looked the door opened and two men, one of which he recognized, walked into the room.

"I still don't understand why you insisted on meeting here, Ethan," the first gentleman said as he pulled a key out of the door lock.

"Because Joe, I have some things that I think you'll be interested in," Ethan replied.

"Well, I guess there's no harm in looking at them," Joe said. "What have you got?"

Ethan brought a large wooden crate up to the counter and set it down in front of Joe. He replied with a low whistle just at the sight of them. "What is all this?" he asked, reaching into the box to pick up a rectangular piece of shiny brown metal.

"Builders plates, number boards, operator's manual. And I have an air horn in the back of my truck. I would have had a bell too, but it was damaged rather badly."

Joe looked at the items with surprise. He recognized where they came from. "I heard about the wreck. Those meddlesome kids are lucky to be alive. But how did you manage to get them?"

Ethan simply smirked. "I have my ways."

Joe looked at him with shock. "You don't mean that you just waltzed into the yard and took them off him without anyone seeing you?"

"How else would I have gotten them? It's not like he'll be using them anymore anyways."

Joe started chuckling. "You're a sly one Ethan. Now, I'm assuming you want to sell these to me?"

"Of course. Gotta make some extra cash somehow."

Joe chuckled again. "A man after my own heart. Now let's see." He said as he ruffled through the box

Joe picked up the operators manual and flipped through it.

"You won't find a single tear or bookworm in that whatsoever. It's in virtually mint condition," Ethan said.

"Hmm." Joe said. "Five dollars."

"Five?!" Ethan said. "But that's gotta be worth at least ten if you were to buy one straight from EMD!"

"You're right," Joe said. "But I've gotta make a profit too."

Both men started chuckling and Joe pulled four number boards out of the box. Two were metal and two were glass. Arthur tried to see what the number was but Ethan was blocking the way. "Why are there only two glass boards here?" Joe asked.

"Because the other two were destroyed in the crash," Ethan said.

"Hmmm, fair enough. Four dollars each for the glass ones and six for the metal ones." Joe pulled out a bronze builders plate; two of them, to be exact, and groaned. "Eh, I always tend to go a bit high on builders plates. Ten dollars each. Now let's go out to your truck and look at that horn."

As he watched the two walk out of the shop, Arthur couldn't believe what he'd seen and heard. His own driver had deliberately stolen pieces of a locomotive, the locomotives identity no less, and was selling them just to make some money. He'd be having a stern talking to when he came to work in the morning.

But he was still disturbed. After all the things that the Spirit of Christmas Present had showed him of Christmas being a happy time, he couldn't understand how an engine being scrapped could bring people so much joy.

"Spirit. This is a dreadful place. I don't want to be surrounded by these images. Please, show me some tenderness, or I'll be haunted by these exchanges for the rest of my life.

The scene before them shifted, and Arthur found that they were in Pontiac. Arthur saw several engines in the roundhouse. Connie, Clair, Dustin, Dillon, Lawrence and Justin were all there. Curiously however, neither Chris or Steve were there, nor were Christine and Riley.

"Ah yes, Pontiac," Arthur said. "A true place of happiness." But as he rolled up, he noticed that it was much quieter than his last visit.

"I wonder where Christine is," he heard Dillon ask.

"I think she's been running a bit slower these past few weeks," his brother surmised.

Clair had a small tear form in her eye. "Yes. I can imagine it's been painful for her. And combine that with Mr. Wix being replaced with a new engineer, I'm sure she's taking it rough."

"We just need to remain in good spirits and stay strong with her. He was our friend too," Justin observed, a bit of sadness in his voice as well.

They all heard that familiar three-chime whistle sound from the south, including Arthur But it sounded much slower and sadder than the last time. Arthur watched as Christine rolled into the yard and up to the roundhouse. Just looking at her face, and the fact that she was alone, explained everything to Arthur. "No. Not Riley," he said with remorse.

"M-merry Christmas everyone," Christine said with a tremble in her voice.

It was evident that everyone wanted to say something to Christine, something of comfort, but no one could come up with the right words; until Clair spoke up.

"Hey Christine. How are you feeling?"

Christine hesitated for a minute. "I'm doing okay, for now. But I'm still struggling."

While the other engines seemed to want to avoid wanting to do anything, Connie moved out of her stall and rolled up to her. "Hey, I know it probably won't do much, but I want you to know that I'll do whatever I can to help you. You're my sister and I hate to see you like this. I remember when you helped me when I lost my memory, and it's my turn to return the favor."

"Thank you Connie. That means a lot to me," Christine replied.

Connie saw the telltale signs of Christine about to break down. In response, she gently leaned her head forward and pressed her forehead against Christine's. "It'll be okay, Christine. The Great Father is watching over him now. He's on a better railroad with no more pain or mechanical issues. He's as new as the day he rolled off the shop floor. And I know he would want you to be happy and stay strong."

"I know, Connie. It's just hard for me to accept that right now."

"It's alright. If you need to talk about anything, you come to me. I am your big sister after all."

The two sat like that for a few more moments before Connie felt that Christine was calm. She then pulled back and returned to her stall.

"So where did you go today?" Clair asked as Christine pulled up to the turntable. She decided that changing the subject would be the best course of action.

"I was asked to go to Milwaukee Junction for an extra freight and I met Sidney down there. He seemed a bit down so I talked to him for a bit. He simply mentioned that he was sorry to hear about Riley and that he hopes that all his good friends would keep strong during this holiday season. He also mentioned that they need another engine down in Milwaukee Junction, and he asked if you would be interested, Dillon."

Dillon was quite surprised. "Me? Go to Detroit?"

Lawrence spoke up on that. "I bet you'd like it down there. Engines from all across the Great Lakes go through there every day. And there's always plenty of work."

"Well, it might be fun," Dillon said, pondering the idea.

"And who knows, maybe you'll finally find a girl down there," Lawrence added.

"Oh, knock it off, will you?" Dillon complained. He didn't like being reminded of his lack in that department. "Besides, now isn't the best time to be talking about something like that," he said, jerking his head in the direction of Christine.

But it was too late. Christine had heard what Lawrence said. She had been working hard to remain strong in front of her friends, but she realized quickly that it was a losing battle, and she didn't want to be around her friends when the dam let lose.

"Oh, Christine, I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it," he said trying to backpedal.

"It's not your fault." She then turned towards her driver. "Bill, can you take me over to that siding? I… I need to be alone for a minute."

"Of course, Christine," the man said. "If you need anyone to talk to, let me know. I am your driver after all."

Bill moved Christine over to a siding; the same one Arthur was sitting on, watching the whole scene unfold before him. When he realized Christine wasn't going to stop he started to reverse, to get out of her way. He ended up running right through the bumping post behind him as if it was nothing and, although he was on the gravel, it was as if he was still on the rails.

Christine came to a stop right at the bumping post; Arthur facing her. He wasn't that far from her and could easily make out every detail in her face. Her eyes were red and her lids were puffed up. She had dark bags intermingling with red patches under her eyes, and her lips were a bit cracked.

Arthur looked deep into her eyes. He saw every single bit of sadness in them. "Oh, Christine. I…I-I'm so, so sorry."

Christine started to sob. Lightly at first, as if she didn't want to, but her sobs became greater until she was crying uncontrollably. "Oh Riley. Why? Why did it have to be you? How… How can I go on without you?"

Arthur watched, unable to do anything to help Christine. And it filled him with grief, both for Christine and Riley. As he watched, Christine faded from view and he found himself consumed by darkness. He watched as the spirit rolled up to him, its ominous "eye" piercing into his soul.

"Spirit, I must know. Who was that engine that was being talked about in Milwaukee Junction?"

For an answer, the spirit simply pointed to its right. Arthur looked and realized that they were now in a smelting works. The orange-yellow glow of molten metal flickered off the walls and sparks of molten metal splashed here and there, illuminating various locations throughout the works. And, in a strange instant, the Spirit looked like it was in its natural habitat.

Arthur realized where they were, and feared for his life. While he knew he was getting an answer, no engine ever wanted to see the dead remains of another locomotive. "Spirit, this future can be changed, can't it?" he asked. "These are only the shadows of what could happen, aren't they?"

Still the spirit pointed on. As Arthur looked where it was pointing, a shape emerged from the darkness. Amongst the flashes of light throughout the smelters works, a rectangular solid shape emerged.

Arthur crept forward, but looked back at the Spirit again, fear consuming his voice. "These images can be changed. While the current choices we've made lead to one end, every action we make from that point on creates a different path that leads to a different end, doesn't it?"

Still, the Spirit pointed on. As Arthur rolled towards it, he started to tremble as the shape became more distinctive. It was the shape of a diesel switcher, an EMD-style switcher to be exact. He looked back at the spirit and yet it still pointed on.

Arthur rolled up to the locomotive, fearful of what he would see. He was on the fireman's side, but he could see what looked like damage on the opposite side. Suddenly, a bright flash of light from some molten metal behind Arthur illuminated everything in front of him, including this engine. He could now see that the entire engineer's side had been crushed in, along with the faceplate. It wore black paint with, the familiar slanted red and gold square on its cab saying "Grand Trunk Western" and a gold number 78 in the middle of the long hood.

Arthur jumped back at the sight. But he was wondering if maybe it was just his eyes playing tricks. A plume of fire shot up that illuminated the engine long enough for Arthur to realize the locomotive's identity.

"NO!" he shouted as he rolled back in fear. "No, Spirit, please! It can't be me. The engine that everyone disliked and was glad to be rid of was me?"

The Spirit's claw moved to point at Arthur, then moved back to point at his wrecked remains. "Spirit please, I beg of you! This can't be how my life ends. I'm not the engine I used to be. I'm not the engine these images portray. Why would you show me these things if I didn't have any hope left? The Black Maria Sisters said I there was still hope for me by allowing your company and those that came before you?"

As he said this, the Spirit started to move towards him. Its claw moved lower to the tracks, aimed right at Arthur. Arthur, suddenly afraid for his life, started to back up. "Spirit, please, show pity on me." Still it moved closer.

As he backed away, he suddenly felt his back end drop. He looked and suddenly realized that he had just backed off a ledge. And below him was a glowing vat of molten metal. Arthur tried to move forward, but realized he couldn't as the corner of the ledge jammed up against his rear truck. What was worse was that he seemed to be pulled back by the force of gravity. "SPIRIT, PEASE HELP ME!" he shouted.

As he felt himself about to fall, the Spirit's claw reached forward and grabbed hold of his pilot at the last second. He dangled helpless over the molten pool below, staring up at the Spirit's ominous "eye" as he pleaded. "Spirit, I'm not the engine I once was. I have changed my ways. I will honor Christmas in my heart forever and always. Please, don't let me die."

As he looked up at the Spirit, he heard a metallic 'Klunk' and felt himself drop a few inches. He looked up in horror as the claw that was holding onto him gradually broke loose from its joint with the rest of the arm. With a final snap and a spark of electricity, the claw broke away, leaving Arthur to freefall into the pit below. "SPIRIIIIIIIIIT!" he shouted as he fell to what he knew would be his death.

He closed his eyes tight as he embraced his imminent fate. "Sisters, forgive me for failing you," he said silently as he awaited his fiery death. But it never came. He felt like he was falling for much longer than he should have. And after a full minute of nothing, he finally built up the courage to open his eyes; only to see a pair of wood doors. Upon making this connection, he uttered two simple words. "My shed?


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter 5_

Yes, it was his shed. The doors were shut and locked, and the shed lamp was still on. However, the lamp now had no purpose as rays of sunlight shown through the windows of the shed. The sound of church bells ringing throughout the city, combined with the sound of the regular road traffic across the grade crossing right outside filled the air.

It took a few seconds for everything to register with Arthur, but as soon as it did, he started chuckling. It was a gradual chuckle, but it grew steadily until he was laughing so hard he was brought to tears. And for someone who wasn't used to laughing, he was rather good at it.

"Oh dear Sisters," he said once he calmed down a bit, "I promise to keep Christmas in my heart all year long. The spirits of the past, present and future will stay with me until my final run. Oh Great Father be praised!"

His voice cracked as he said this. He suddenly looked up and checked something. "My number boards, my builder plates and my horn are all still here." He paused, and then said with a chuckle "I can't move by myself anymore either. I'm really alive!"

Just as he said this he heard a metallic clink, the shed door opened and his driver walked in. Having heard Arthur's exuberant voice, Ethan was wondering if this was in fact his own engine and made him glad he decided to show up early. "What in the name of all things holy is going on in here?" he asked.

"Oh, Ethan, thank goodness you're here." Arthur replied. "What day is it?"

"Uh, what?" Ethan said, realizing his question had been completely ignored and replaced by one he wasn't even expecting. That and he was somewhat stunned that Arthur had actually called him by name.

"What day is today?" Arthur said, just as jovial as before.

Ethan was starting to wonder if he was still snuggled up in his bed, having the most peculiar dream ever. But something inside him persuaded him to answer his engine's question. "It-it's Christmas Day."

"Christmas Day!" Arthur said excitedly. "I haven't missed it! The spirits did it all in one night! I still have a chance to fix everything!"

Now Ethan was almost certain he was dreaming. Arthur, Grand Trunk Western SC #78, getting excited about Christmas and spirits? It was preposterous. And he started to get a little nervous to the point that he was unconsciously backing out the shed door. Arthur noticed this and called out to him.

"Ethan, wait," he said. His voice had somewhat calmed down and he was looking at Ethan with eyes that he had never used before. Eyes that were filled with sorrow and remorse. Seeing them, Ethan stopped and looked at his engine.

"I… I want to apologize. For everything." Arthur said. "I've been a fool all these years and… and I'm sorry. I know there's nothing I can do to fix anything I've done in the past, but I want to take a new track and at least attempt to salvage any friendship that could exist between you and me. I know that's probably the last thing you'd expect to hear from me, but I really do mean it.

"I know that I don't deserve anything from you, considering everything I've put you through. And I won't force you to forgive me. And, even if you don't, I'll still do whatever I can to be a better engine to my driver."

Ethan was completely stunned. And he actually pinched himself to check and make sure he was still alive. But after thinking about it, a small smile crept onto his face. "Arthur, I have no idea what happened to you last night. And I probably don't want to know. But I accept your apology and forgive you. I've wanted to be friends with you for a while but your temperament has always prevented me from asking."

A bright smile appeared on Arthur's face. "Thank you, Ethan. And you're right. If I told anyone what happened I'd probably be locked away in my shed with the key thrown away. But let's get out there and get to work. I don't want you to miss Christmas dinner with your family."

Ethan's chuckled, still not used to hearing his engine talk like this. "Sounds like a plan." He started to walk to his cab but stopped as a thought crossed his mind. "Oh, and Arthur? Merry Christmas."

Arthur looked back at his driver and smiled. "Merry Christmas to you too, Ethan."

The rest of the morning and early afternoon were spent shuffling cars in Milwaukee Junction. Arthur finished his work in record time, something that impressed him, Ethan and all the other workers in the yard. As he neared the end of his duties he noticed a trio of GTW coal cars sitting on a siding. He had seen them sitting there for several months but had never known why they were there. A thought crossed his mind and he asked Ethan about them

"I'm not sure," he replied. "I remember they were filled up by a ship several months ago, but nothing beyond that."

"Could you ask the Yardmaster about them?"

"Sure." Parking next to the office, Ethan climbed down and walked inside. He was in there for a while but finally came out with the Yardmaster in tow.

"Ethan told me about your sudden change in attitude, but I had to see it for myself. And all I had to do was take a look at your faceplate to know he wasn't pulling my leg. As for those hoppers over there, they were a load of Anthracite coal that was supposed to go to a factory north of here. Unfortunately it burned down and they refused the delivery. Why do you ask?"

"Well I was wondering if I could have it sent up to Pontiac to be given to the engines up there. I think it would be a nice Christmas gift for them."

After thinking about it, the Yardmaster said "Well, it's already been paid for. And they did tell us to do whatever we wanted with it. So I'll approve of it. Set 'em over on Track 3 and I'll have the next train take 'em up."

"Thank you so much sir. Christine and the others will love it. Especially Riley." He paused, and then added, "Oh, Sir? Could you keep my name out of it? Just say it's from a friend."

"I will do that Arthur. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas to you too, Sir."

Before long all of Arthur's tasks were completed. But instead of asking to be taken back to his shed, Arthur asked Ethan to take him over to the roundhouse. Ethan, realizing that Arthur was actually considering taking Sidney up on his invitation, gladly agreed.

As he rolled up to the roundhouse he could hear the engines playing Mastermind. "All right," he heard Frank reply. "Is he a steam engine?"

"Nope. Sorry," he heard Sidney say. "Sherman, it's to you now."

Arthur gulped. He knew Sidney was thinking about him and it made him hesitate a bit. But Ethan encouraged him. "It'll be alright. Trust me. I go to parties like this all the time."

"Is he from the Canadian National?" He heard Jack say.

"Technically no he is not," Sidney replied. "Devrie, the ball is yours so to speak."

"Technically no, hm," she said. "Does that mean he's from the Grand Trunk Western?"

Sidney nodded. "Yes he is." Knowing where this was about to go, Arthur rolled forward, determined to keep his name from becoming a joke; even though he knew he rightfully deserved it.

A gleam appeared in Devrie's eye and she smiled. "Does he have a rather crabby personality?"

"Yes he does," Sidney said with a smile.

Devrie was about to give her answer when someone interrupted her. "Is it me?"

All the engines turned to see Arthur standing at the edge of the turntable pit. Silence filled the roundhouse as everyone who was there stared with disbelief at who they were seeing. Melina, not knowing who Arthur was, leaned over to Stephanie and asked in a low whisper, "Who ees that?"

"That's Sidney's Uncle Arthur," she replied with disbelief.

"U-Uncle?" Sidney said with disbelief also filling his voice.

"Yes, nephew. It's me. I… I-I've come to… to join your party." He paused before adding, "Will you let me join?"

Sidney looked hard and long at Arthur before a large smile grew on his face. "If I didn't want you here, do you think I would have pestered you for so long about it? Of course I will."

"Thank you." He rolled onto the turntable and happened to catch a glimpse of Daisy. He had seen her before when he had visited with the Spirit of Christmas Present, but this was the first time he had actually seen her in person. And he realized just how much she looked like Rebecca. He paused, and directed his attention to her. "Will you forgive a foolish engine like me, who's just afraid of being left alone on Christmas Day, and let me join you?"

As first, Daisy looked at Arthur like she was about to chew him a new exhaust stack. But then she smiled and said "Of course I do. Merry Christmas Uncle Arthur."

"Yes," Melina added, "Merry Christmas." The other engines joined them and wished Arthur the same. Arthur sighed with relief and smiled. The rest of the party was filled with laughs and Arthur promised time and again that he would attend the next year and the year after.

The next day, Arthur woke up early and headed to Milwaukee Junction. He wanted to be there before Christine was scheduled to arrive with the first commuter train of the day. Much to his excitement, she was a full seven minutes late. Oh would he be having some fun with her.

As Christine pulled in he noticed her breathing was a bit labored, most likely because she was pushing herself to make up for lost time. For a minute, Arthur felt a little sorry for what he was about to do, but knew that it was for the best. "Christine!" he shouted as he rolled towards her in a huff. "What is the meaning of arriving here seven minutes late?"

"I-I'm sorry," Christine stuttered. "We were having a lot of fun last night and I overslept." Arthur rolled closer to her, his scowl looking even more sinister than normal. "I-it's only once a year."

"Christine, I've put up with this for far too long," he said, his gruff tone emphasizing his supposed frustration. "And as such you've left me with no other choice." Christine gulped nervously. "Christine, I'm going to switch your coaches for you."

At first, Christine wasn't sure if she had heard him right. Even her crew looked out of her cab to see if they too had heard him right. She looked at him confused and watched as his scowl quickly turned into a smile and he started laughing.

"Ho ho, Merry Christmas Christine. A merrier Christmas than I've given you in a long time. Yes, I'm going to collect your coaches for you as soon as they're ready, and do anything else to help out you and your friends, especially Riley."

"I… I don't know what to say," Christine said, still stunned.

"You don't have to say anything. Now get to Brush Street before you're a minute later and I'll be along momentarily. And when you get back top off your tender with some fresh coal and water."

Christine thought for only a moment before a smile crossed her face as well. "Yes sir." And with two blasts of her whistle she headed off to Brush Street. Arthur smiled and started following her. Ethan just smiled, still amazed at how much his engine had really changed.

Arriving in Brush Street, Arthur began to collect Christine's now empty coaches. As he did he noticed two men on the platform, the same men from Christmas Eve that were taking pictures. He also noticed that they had seen him and were starting to walk away quickly. "Gentlemen," he called out. "Please wait."

For some reason, the two men stopped for a moment, looked at each other, and then heeded Arthur's call.

"I… I want to apologize for any grief I caused you two the other day. I'd like to make it up to you. I know a couple places in Detroit that are extremely busy with steamers. I also know of this legendary branchline up in the thumb that I'm sure I can get you a cab ride on. That is if you're still interested."

The two men looked at each other. "Are you in earnest?" the thin one asked.

"I am," Arthur replied.

"Then we accept your apology, and your offer," the portly one said. "It wouldn't be very Christian of us to refuse someone's apology anyways. We are clergymen after all."

"Thank you, gentlemen," Arthur said. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to finish switching these cars. There will be more steamers along soon and then I'll take you to these places I mentioned." And with that, Arthur was off.

As he pulled away, three figures watched him go.

"Well done, sisters," Maria said. "He has been saved from his fate.

"Yes," Mary agreed. "We may not have saved him from the scrapper's torch, but where he will go after will be a much better place."

"Indeed," Martha added. "And it also feels as if our trains have gotten lighter."

"Perhaps they have, sister," Maria said. "Let us depart, we still have many more miles to travel."

_The Rauli Christmas Party_

_December 1989_

"Arthur was as good as his word and better," Christine said. "After that, he and Sidney came to Pontiac and agreed to take Riley to the shops in Battle Creek and take over his duties until he was fully repaired. The workers found out that not only did he have a bad cylinder seal, but he also has a slight bend in his firebox crown. He received a complete overhaul and when he returned, he felt like a new engine.

"Riley and Arthur became good friends and they stayed that way until Riley's retirement from the GTW. Arthur was eventually retired in 1963 and sat in the Battle Creek shops for a while and not many people know what happened to him. Some people claim he was sold while other people claim he was scrapped. But one thing that is known is that he celebrated Christmas better than anyone else and was a better engine and a better friend to everyone he encountered. And he echoed words that Riley said many times before. "May the Great Father bless each and every one of us."

Christine finished her story to a round of applause. Mr. Rauli walked up to her clapping as well. "Wonderful story, Christine. And you're right. That is one I've never heard before."

"Indeed," Mr. Jacobson added. "However, I couldn't help but notice that it sounded awfully familiar." Other guests nodded in agreement.

Christine simply smiled. "Well it was a story I had been told in the mid 1950s and I simply changed the characters to make it a little more relatable. And yes, I know the similarities between this one and Charles Dickens "A Christmas Carol".

"Well, regardless of how this story came to be, thank you for sharing it with us," Michael said. The other guests all agreed.

Christine smiled again. "Well thank you all for listening."

The rest of the party continued much as it had been before guests started to leave. Michael was one of the last to leave. But before he did he walked up to Christine. "I'm curious, do you really think Riley would have been scrapped earlier if Arthur hadn't changed his ways?"

"Well in 1955 there was a large retirement of older steam locomotives on the GTW," Christine replied. "Some of my siblings, Riley's siblings and others were all retired and scrapped. So it's very well possible." She laughed and added, "Had that happened, I may have been so grief stricken that I may not have called Mr. Rauli by his last name, or develop the relationship with him that brought me to where I am today."

"Which means that we might not even be talking right now if it hadn't been for that," Michael finished.

"Indeed. It does make you think about how our actions towards others can affect the future so drastically."

"Indeed it does," Michael said. "Have a Merry Christmas and I will be back in February."

"Very well," Christine replied. "Merry Christmas and a happy New Year to you as well." As she watched him leave, Christine thought back to those final years of her running on the Grand Trunk Western. While she longed to be back with her friends again, she knew that there was nothing that could be done about it. But she still had the memories she shared. Including the one from the Christmas of 1954.

_Union, Illinois_

A small, white diesel switcher sat outside in the cold facing an old and somewhat rusty steam locomotive. Even though the Illinois Railway Museum was famous for its preservation of railroad equipment, not everything got some of the attention it needed. But even then, the two engines were content. They were still alive, they were still together and that was all that mattered.

"It's gonna be another cold one tonight," the diesel said. "I just hope they get done with my repairs soon so I can be warm again."

"Yes dear," the steamer replied. "I wish I could be inside a shed right now, but it doesn't look like that'll be happening any time soon."

"I'm sure you would love to run again too. And in all honesty, dear Isaac, I would gladly trade places with you so you can operate once again."

"And if I were in your position, I'd do the same, my darling Becca." The two leaned in and kissed each other. It wasn't a lingering kiss, but it was enough to show that, even 35 years after they first became a couple, they still loved each other.

As they finished, the evening watchman happened to pass by on his inspection route. "Merry Christmas you two," he said as he approached them.

"Merry Christmas to you too," they both replied.

"I'm sorry we can't make better accommodations for you both," he said.

"It's fine," Rebecca replied. "After all, at least we still have each other." She paused and then asked, "Could you go into my cab and get something for me?"

"Well now, I can see," the watchman replied. "What am I looking for?"

"It's an envelope with a letter in it addressed to me dated January 1955. It's in the file holder where my builder's card and manual are."

"A letter?" the watchman replied? "Didn't know engines sent each other letters, but I'll take a look."

"What's this all about?" Isaac asked somewhat confused. "I never sent you a letter."

"I know. I never told you about this, but it's probably time you heard about it. And don't worry; it's nothing like what you might think it is."

After a minute, the watchman returned. "This the one?"

"That's it. Would you mind opening and reading it for me?"

"Sure." He opened the letter, pulled out an old brown piece of paper, and began reading.

"Dear Becca.

"First of all, I know that me writing you out of the blue like this, especially given how we parted, is rather questionable. And frankly, I wouldn't be surprised if you decided to just run this letter over with your wheels and let the scraps blow away with the wind. But if you do read this, please hear me out.

"I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry. You were right. The day you left me and the idea of what we could have been have haunted me ever since. I was a fool, and I let myself be blinded with hollow words and actions. I let myself get tied up in the drama of the retirement of steam and the rise of the diesel, and I lost you as a result.

"I know I don't deserve to be forgiven, but I will still ask for it. I have been through a lot this Christmas season and it has opened my eyes to what I've done with my life. I wanted to tell you that I'm a changed engine. I would go further into detail about this, but the events surrounding this change are so miraculous and incredible that it's almost impossible for me to say without someone thinking I've lost all sense.

"I have gotten rid of my notions that diesels are better than steam and have begun to accept them as my friends. Even as I have this letter written for me, I am working in place of a steamer that is in need of repair so that he and his girlfriend can stay together.

"As I close out this letter, I want you to know that, while things will never be the same between us, I still love you and wish the best for you. And I pray the Great Father's blessing over your union with Isaac. And I also pray that the two of you will not receive the same fate as many steamers are today.

"Love, forever and always, Arthur."

As the watchman finished the letter, Isaac looked at Rebecca, somewhat confused. "Who wrote you this letter?"

"Remember that engine that I told you about years ago? The one that I broke up with?"

"Yeah." He paused and then it clicked. "Wait. That's him?"

"I know. I still don't know how he got that letter to me, or how he even knew I was dating you."

"Maybe he heard about it from someone in Chicago? A good number of other engines knew we were together."

"Perhaps. But I'm not really that concerned about it. I can tell from the way that he wrote that letter that he truly had changed from his old ways."

"Yes, it does sound like that," Isaac replied.

"Thank you for reading this for me," Rebecca said to the watchman.

"My pleasure. You two try to stay warm now, ya' hear?"

"We will." Isaac replied.

As night fell Isaac fell asleep. But Rebecca was still prodded by that letter. She knew for a fact that Arthur never knew where she was, or who she was dating. But she wondered if it had something to do with how he had changed. It was the only thing that seemed to make sense, but exactly how still remained a mystery. But in the end it didn't matter. She smiled as she recalled the words of the letter which she had memorized by heart and quietly whispered the words "I love you too, Arthur," before she closed her eyes and let sleep consume her.


End file.
